


Surprises, Taken as Well as One Can

by Anonymous



Category: Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Birth, M/M, Multiple Trans Characters, Nonbinary Antauri, Pregnancy, and the tag we've all been waiting for, pre-mandarin's betrayal, trans otto, yep its one of those
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21948124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Decisions have consequences.And the consequence of getting too close to Mandarin is the creation of a new monkey, Antauri finds.Of course, there are a lot of other things that come with that; morning sickness, cravings, mood swings, fatigue, fears of the future, other bodily changes, existential dread, questioning your purpose in life, and much more.Antauri has a habit of trying to handle his problems on his own, and he's never attempted to rely on others for support. Emotionally or physically.When your body's been perfectly engineered to fight evil, you're probably going to have a bit of trouble in the "literally creating new life" department.Let's hope he seeks help, whether he wants to or not. Otherwise... well. I don't even want to think of what might happen.
Relationships: Mandarin/Antauri
Comments: 76
Kudos: 41
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Rough Start

My relationship with Mandarin is… less than professional. This was obvious. He never said he had favorites, but I was still second in command. While we were rarely affectionate, we didn't hide when we were. What wasn't so obvious was the cause of the 'food poisoning' and unexplained fatigue I have had for the past week.

During meditation, I do a routine once-over of my body. A very useful and common meditation practice. I check my extremities, focusing on the very tip of my tail as I float above the sand. My focus moves from all my metal digits to closer to my core. I was very nauseous at the moment. My breathing is clear, effortless. My heartbeat is a little faster than I expected, but that could be attributed to anxiety. I take a deep breath and focused on my other vital organs. I stop before my pelvis…and I sense... a tiny, almost imperceptible flicker of life. It couldn't have been bigger than an orange seed. My eyes shoot open, concentration shattered. I fall onto the sand of my meditation room with a soft 'plop', as the reality of what was happening began to dawn on me faster than I wanted it to. I check over it again. The same. Third check. Still there. I finally accept it. Without the sensitivity of using the power primate within one’s self, this would’ve likely remained a mystery for another few months.

I am in the process of creating new life, and it was Mandarin's fault. I'm pregnant, as most would say. I press a hand to my stomach...

And nearly vomited into the fountain.

Gibson catches me in the hallway as I make a beeline for the bathroom, when my mind was already going 300 megafathoms a second. 

"Antauri, how are you fee-" he begins, before I make a vague hand gesture, and continue speed walking on my path. 

I really hoped the sound of my retching answered his question. 

He knocks, and I make no attempt to respond. He opens the door slowly, though I couldn't see him due to my current status of 'puking', I hear him set a glass on the sink. It occurs to me in that moment, that what I was experiencing was traditionally called ‘morning sickness’, despite the fact that I happen to be doing this at four o’ clock in the afternoon. I sit on the floor, and lean on the toilet. Gibson gives me a smile, handing me a cloth to wipe my mouth. 

“Thank you, Gibson.” The taste still lingers in my teeth.

“Here, drink some water.” He says, handing me the glass. I drink nearly half the glass when I suddenly remember why I was vomiting in the first place. Taking deep breaths, I manage to suppress the urge to vomit again. “If this lasts much longer, it may prove debilitating, Antauri”

“I am aware, though I doubt that this’ll last more than a week”

“You ought to let me examine you, and run a couple tests, it cou-" 

"I'm sorry Gibson, but I'd rather avoid any extensive tests." Another wave of nausea makes me face the toilet again, “and, I am definitely not up to it at the moment.”

“Of course, you need to rest. Please, skip training today if you aren’t feeling up to it.”

I smile at him, before dry-heaving once more.

Ugh.

I take up his offer to skip training, not to rest, but to think. Sitting on my bed, I allow my thoughts to race. It could prove beneficial to my current situation. First question; do I keep it? Due to my upbringing I have never thought about having children. Now the possibility was staring me in the face, and I wasn't totally opposed to the idea. But I didn't have to take this responsibility, I could crush them with zero effort using the power primate. End this right now. My instincts say no. All logic says yes. My role as ‘defender of Shuggazoom’ does not lend well to childcare, I know I would easily make a good parent, but I have no idea if Mandarin would… or the rest of the team. Mandarin’s temper is not something I’d want anyone without training to encounter, and I’d have to depend on the team for almost everything… though I’d trust them all with my life. 

Another thing to consider was the incredible amount of modifications everyone on the team has. My body is such a far cry from whatever species of monkey I once was, they might not even survive. I have no idea how they’ve survived this long in the first place, considering my less than stable lifestyle as well, and when the majority of what I call myself is cybernetic. The specifics of that is… Very useful information to know, actually. I step out of my room and head for the tubes. The floor that Gibson’s lab is on is above the living quarters, which was two floors above the training room. Bless the convenience of the layout, nobody would even realize I moved at all. 

The tube wooshes and I find myself in the command center. Gibson keeps any medical diagrams in the med bay, and he enjoys them enough that he keeps them up as decoration. I step quietly, despite knowing nobody is around, and plug my communicator into the main computer. What I want is displayed on the giant screens making up the walls, and I download a copy of all six of our complete biomedical guides for reference. 

In my room I pull up every document I can, getting the exact numbers of every chemical pumped into us. We all were modified on the genetic level, though the modifications seem to be mostly to the immune system and fur colors. Mandarin and I had our genes for fur color untouched, according to the documents. I catch my mind wandering to possible fur color combinations and I have to remind myself of their probability of survival. My internal organs are similar to the rest of the team’s, but we all seem to have different amounts of modification. Some of us having certain organs replaced, while those same organs are outright removed in others', only the vitals are consistent. Mandarin stands out, being the only one with nearly complete arms, likely the reason he wears gauntlets instead.

Half of the team has a different set of reproductive organs than the other. Mandarin and I are in different halves. I don’t look too closely at the other team members' organs. 

My reproductive system had been left nearly untouched, but not on purpose. One tube having been cut and removed near a place in my digestive system that has clear modifications. I can only imagine that the person who installed must have slipped while cutting…

Who  _ did  _ do the upgrades on us?

My train of thought is thrown off course then righted as fast as it left the tracks. I immediately forget what I was thinking about.

I don't see anything that would spell certain doom, but nothing particularly promising either. My hip bones are notably small for purposes down the line. In fact, the head to body ratio of the team is ridiculous. If I did what every instinct is telling me to do and run off into the woods to deal with this myself, I’d likely bleed out without proper medical intervention. Dying alone is a scary thought. The fate of the tiny creature I am creating seems to be entirely in the hands of a roll of the dice. Or possibly, in the hands of the power primate, as the child of two incredibly powerful monkeys.

Nothing was helping me with my decision, so I will leave it up to my freshly-existent child. If they can survive until the second trimester by fate, I will do anything in my power to help them.

Three months until I find out.


	2. Sparx Sees a Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter I thought about combining with the next, but I'd rather have the funny part be a different chapter than the emotional part. Enjoy Antauri scaring the shit out of Sprx.

A week later I was able to get the nausea under control, though it lingered nearly constantly. Self discipline and a little mint tea helped, but feeling queasy during battle is still not a fun experience. My contributions to battle returned to normal. Two weeks after that, my appetite returned, to my dismay. Nearly two months have passed without incident. Exciting. 

Despite joining the team for dinner that evening, I awake in the middle of the night absolutely starving. I  _ could _ blame my child on this feeling, but they can't choose the bizarre cocktail of hormones my body sends out in response to their existence. This particular mix of chemicals I'm experiencing prompts me to get out of bed. Too tired to resist. My feet don't even touch the ground as I float out my door. 

I grab whatever seems good out of the fridge, skipping on silverware. It's dark in the kitchen, besides the light of the fridge, and my own eyes. I'm crunching on my improvised snack at the table, alone in the dark. My night vision is good enough to be comfortable with only the light of the fridge. I know it's disgusting, but in my half-asleep state it's delicious. I’m thankful nobody else is there to witness this scene.

The light turns on with a click. I blink in surprise, and I'm suddenly making eye contact with Sprx. He looks as shocked to see someone else as me. In that moment, I become acutely aware of the bizarreness of my snack. I was eating yogurt using a pickle… I didn't even know we had pickles.

Usually one would be discouraged from using the power primate for frivolous purposes, but I jump into action anyway, turning off the lights, closing the fridge, tossing my yogurt into the trash, all without touching anything. I use the ceiling to scramble out of the room before turning the lights back on.

I hear Sprx mumble, “fucking hell, Antauri, just give me nightmares, sure.”

Continuing to munch on the rest of the pickle, I crawl across the ceiling and into my room. That was… mortifying. Adrenaline is still racing through my body. I lay back on my bed, heart pounding. 

Despite the experience, this reality has not sunk in yet, but I am unsure how to get it to click. I'm  _ aware _ of the new life form inside of me, and I'm proceeding based on this reality, but I don't think I've completely accepted it. A disconnect between my logical mind and my instinctual mind. 

"You are a complete nuisance." I say to  _ nobody _ , technically. It's aimed at my child, despite them not having ears yet. They don't respond, obviously. I feel a little dumb. I put my hand on my lower abdomen, and it feels no different. I press down a little, nothing new. I press harder, hard enough it almost hurts, and feel around. Nothing seems different. That was very little change externally to be affecting my hormones in the way it had been. It's kind of amazing how so little can do so much. Searching with the power primate shows they're exactly where I checked, yet I couldn't feel it. This tiny disconnect was enough for my monkey brain to go "nope, nothing's different." The inner machinations of the mind are a mystery, and denial is one hell of a drug. 

I curl up with my arms around my stomach, and fall asleep.


	3. Foodstuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is centered around food, and Otto, also Mandarin's first appearance! He's more prominent in the next chapter I promise.
> 
> haha asian stereotypes. the veron mystics were already a "generic asian culture" thing so I feel like putting in a smaller quirk of some asian countries was needed.

The next morning at breakfast, Sprx says nothing. I was very, very thankful for that.

Our diets are highly regulated most of the time. Based on our average activity and metabolism, we each have a specialized amount of calories and nutrients, that we can use to base our cooking on. We never followed these recommended amounts perfectly for the sake of comfort, but we still roughly keep in range. But I was now eating for two, even if one of them is barely the size of an orange slice, my actual caloric needs didn’t match what was listed.

Mandarin set the table as the rest of the team files in. There's some chatter that I don't entirely pay attention to, because Mandarin gives me a smile that shatters my train of thought. His smiles bring me great joy.

I finish my meal, still hungry. I cannot complain, he's an amazing cook. He glances at my plate and I can see reminders of an old Veran value--never let family leave the house without eating their fill--flicker across his face. The Verans had such a loving opinion about food. He always held that particular value in high regard. Mandarin shifts into 'leader-mode'.

"Morning patrols will be after breakfast. I trust you all know your routes?"

"Kinda, I forgot, what day is it?" Otto said through a mouthful of food.

"Thursday. You're with Antauri, sectors 5-15." Mandarin started to collect the empty plates. 

"Oh yeah! Thanks Mandarin,"

"At some point, you will have to memorize this schedule." Mandarin begins, though I can't stand to see him truly scold Otto for something out of his control.

“Mandarin,” I reach for his hand, stroking the soft fur on his hands usually kept hidden under his gauntlets, “You know everyone goes at different speeds when it comes to memorization.”

He seems to soften slightly, and lets out an almost imperceptible sigh. “Yes, yes. Antauri’s right. Be prepared for today, Otto.”

“Yes sir!” He said, saluting with a fork. 

We head to the tubes, and go through the activation sequence. The familiar script gives me a wonderful sense of calm. I’m lightheaded enough that I end up late on my part of the routine. By less than a second, but it was noticeable to me. Nobody mentions it, so I am unsure if I was even as late as I perceived it.

“Prepare to disengage” Mandarin says. I welcome the weightless feeling that accompanies the arc of my takeoff, more freeing than even my own floating. We head for our patrol routes, Otto and I heading in the opposite direction from the others. The populated routes historically take longer, 5 starting at a lesser populated area, with 15 ending at a more major junction. Due to the robot's position, the particular route was one that Sprx always dreaded flying through, and Mandarin hated driving through. Neither of them are very patient monkeys. 

"How you doing, Antauri?"

"Very well, Otto. You?" I prompt. I expect him to tell me about his morning, or whatever project he's working on, but he just says,

"Good."

We drive in silence. Uncomfortable silence. I could be misinterpreting the situation, but it is still out of the ordinary for Otto so be silent. He has a complicated relationship with sound, much preferring the silence of our uninhabited moon, or the gentle hum of his machines, distracting from any unpleasant noises by making conversation or other noise. I look at him on the feed, and he seems to be chewing on the inside of his cheek. Our first sector is declared clear without a word exchanged. I attempt to keep my thoughts from spiralling, but my brain is unfocused and I end up hearing only the second half of what Otto says,

"-ntauri? You been acting weird lately."

"Huh?"

"You sure you're okay, Antauri?"

"I am feeling a little faint today, but it's nothing to worry about."

"You finished breakfast today, didn't you? I mean, you're probably hungry!"

"I did not," I lie, "perhaps you're right,"

"Okay," Otto looks away from the video feed, and puckers his lips in the adorable ways he does when concentrating. He looks back, "I could help you feel better with that problem but you gotta promise me something!"

"Oh? What would I need to promise?"

"Don't tell Mandarin!"

That's… highly suspicious, but it might not be, so I prod further.

"What?"

"He'll think I don't like his cooking!"

"I can keep a secret if it's about  _ that _ ."

"Alright! When we get to sector 8 there is something cool, you can land on top of my tank then."

At sector 7, I’m able to identify my feelings of hunger. I rarely go out into the city on my own time, so I have no idea what he could be talking about. Before I know it, Otto's voice tells me when to land. The second I open the hatch of the Brain Scrambler a menagerie of smells hit my nose. 

"Come on!It's just through here!"

I walk behind him, watching his tail flick in anticipation. The smells are mouthwatering, but the path to them is a more grungy and run-down alleyway. The only thing that alleviates the sense that we're about to get attacked from the shadows is the sound of Shuggazoomian chatter from beyond the path. 

We seem to have entered a vehicle-based food court. Street-food central. As monkeys, there is a language barrier between us and the humans, but a blue-haired human in the window of a cart spots us and waves. Otto grabs my hand and leads me to their cart. The smell of various foods is almost overwhelming at this point. Before I can even wonder how Otto plans on getting past the language barrier, Otto climbs onto the counter, nearly into the window, and begins a complicated series of hand gestures and pointing at the menu. The blue-haired human roughly repeats the pointing, and Otto nods. I am once more reminded how much of a genius he is. Our food is given to us in a white plastic bag, with the human phrase for “THANK YOU” printed down the sides. 

We eat as we walk. Mandarin would probably cringe at how good it is. Human food is always a gamble, and too many times have human fans given us bananas. He prides himself on his cooking, and to think that a human rivals him would make him go, well, as the humans say. Bananas. That was a terrible pun. Isn’t that a symptom of parenthood? I notice Otto is looking at me, and only now do I realize that I’ve eaten most of the burrito already.

“Wow, you must’ve been really hungry!”

“Er, yes.” I say. I catch Otto’s eyes glance down, before returning to his burrito.

“I always come here because Gibson won’t change my diet needs, but…” He begins. I throw my burrito wrapper into a trashcan. “He’d totally listen to you! Why won’t he change it?”

“I haven’t asked.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Not even once?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’d rather not say.”

Otto gives me a look that rivals my own death glare. Secrets among the team were discouraged, mostly by me, though we all know they are inevitable. Secrets about health are discouraged by both me AND Gibson, and are unheard of because of that. I gave a hint that I'm violating my own rule, and now I feel like a broken machine as he studies me, finding the answer to his next question for himself. His eyes flick between my face and my stomach. I know that I am still to early to show, but I felt bloated and uncomfortable. I try my best until my self-consciousness becomes unbearable, and I admit defeat. Months of training with masters of the power primate and self control and I can barely last more than the amount of time it takes me to finish a burrito. Very impressive. I drop the relaxed facade and express the nervous body language I was holding back, crossing my arms and slouching. The most telling of these signs being my tail, which wraps around my midsection. I can’t even look at Otto, but he puts his hand on my back. 

“Congrats?”

“Please don’t tell the rest of the team,” I whisper, my voice quivering. I had never expected to feel so strongly about this, but the emotions tightened their grip on my throat. But I wasn't crying yet, so I hadn't lost that battle.

“We could help you,”

“I’m not-” I start, but have to take another breath. “I don’t think they’ll survive another month. I don’t want the team to get their hopes up. Especially not Mandarin.”

I didn’t want to get my hopes up either. I had been feeling tired, nauseous, and uncomfortable in my own body. All for a little embryo to have a fighting chance. Yet nothing said it would last. 

Otto doesn’t say anything, but continues to rub my back as I regain my composure. When we reach our vehicles he gives me a little smile, “Don’t worry,” he says. I smile back, but I still feel out of sorts. 

He doesn't say anything about this once we get back on patrol. My respect for him in that moment increases tenfold when it occurs to me that the vehicle feeds can be checked later on. He's that serious about keeping my secret. 

I really shouldn't be keeping this a secret, but I am very dumb and very stubborn. Both of these traits I've picked up from Mandarin. Oh no. Our child will be a  _ nightmare _ to raise... if they survive long enough to inherit either of those traits. 

I stop my train of thought in its tracks. If I keep thinking about what  _ could _ be, I will be severely disappointed if it doesn’t happen.

Why did I let this get so far.


	4. Snugglebug on a Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snuggle session interrupted by a monster alert. Antauri is VERY creative.

I have now encountered the problem of my abdomen having  _ already _ changed shape, despite it having just barely been three months. I am a smaller monkey, and the change is slight… but I  _ feel _ like it's obvious. My fur does a great deal to cover up the shape, but once one has something pointed out to them, it is hard to retract attention from it. I have been more careful during battle lately.

Mandarin approaches me as I’m meditating. During our free time is when we interact most, as long as an alarm doesn't interfere with any time together. I stop floating, and sit on the sand as he starts the conversation with a hug.

He has always been as much of a touchy feely monkey as the rest of us, but something in his meticulously crafted leader role kept him from admitting it. Or perhaps it has something to do with the Verans Mystics, who were always adverse to touch. One cannot be sure with Mandarin. I lean into the hug, and rest my chin on his shoulder. He still hasn't removed his armor from training earlier today, so my face rests on hard leather.

I hear two 'clangs' behind me, and then Mandarin's thin fingers slide up my back. I shiver in response.

"Are you using new shampoo?" He says, something I didn't expect

"Hmm?"

"Your fur is really soft today,"

"Is that so?" I say. I haven't been using new shampoo. In fact, I expected Mandarin to comment on my fur being extra  _ low _ quality today. Stress makes my fur scratchy. Is this another pregnancy quirk? I don’t give him an answer, but he doesn’t notice.

Mandarin kisses me on the cheek, feeling the fur of the other side of my face with his thumb. His fur is soft as well, but not more than usual. He takes pride in grooming himself properly. I grab Mandarin's free hand, and the thin fur is almost as soft as down. His touch is almost enough to get me to forget what’s been stressing me out. I find his tail with mine, and they link together. The metal tips clink as they twist. Sensations at the ends of our tails are different from the flesh part. It's impossible to describe  _ how _ it's different, but it's the same different as the sensations from our hands compared to our feet. It feels so good to link our tails. 

We aren’t very good kissers, as we’ve never had anyone else, but mashing our faces together always seemed to work. It can end up a battle of who's leaning forward the most if we aren't careful. This is exactly what was happening now, but gravity and I have a complicated relationship, so I lean precariously over the sand… until Mandarin's hand strays too close to my subtle bump. I flinch, a jolt of panic rushing through me, breaking my concentration. I fall back onto the sand, and look up at Mandarin. I have no idea if it's due to the extreme awareness of the area or if it's genuinely more sensitive than usual, but his touch was terrifying.

There's a question on his lips and I hate to know what it is. Obviously my secret has been discovered and he's going to-

"Are you ticklish?" He asks. Somehow that question is worse than most of the things I was imagining. The horrific 'are you ticklish' paradox. It's what the Verans used to explain what a manipulative question could sound like when we were very young monkeys. If someone asks you if you're ticklish, they are going to tickle you. If you say no, they'll have to see if you're lying. If you say yes, they'll test how much. Depending on the situation, this isn't so bad, but if you don't want to be tickled… there is no right answer. I don't know my opinion on tickles. It wasn't something that happened on the robot very often.

I can't hold back a smile as I say, "No,"

"Oh, you aren't, are you?"

"I'm not ticklish."

"Really?" He wiggles his fingers with the stupidest smile on his face. Here it comes.

“Do not, no- no” I start, but then he attacks. I shriek in laughter as we destroy the patterns on the sand. Turns out I’m  _ very _ ticklish and I love it. I counter for Mandarin’s neck, and he crumples backwards, the neck of his armour squishing into his chin. It almost feels like we’re kids, giggling on the floor. The rest of the team would marvel at how uncivilized we’re being, but I’m too caught up in the  _ fun _ to care. I love this monkey.

Suddenly, an alarm blares. We both freeze. 

The monster alert. 

Mandarin picks me up and places me on my feet. As he puts his gloves back on, I give him a quick kiss on the cheek. We run to our posts.

"Monkeys, mobilize!" He shouts.

Gibson has nothing of note to report about the monster. Standard 'larger version of existing lifeform' attacking the city. No beam attacks, ranged attacks, or anything out of the ordinary for the creature other than its size. In this case it was a giant dog. A very cute and fluffy dog. It was currently sniffing at a hot dog stand, it’s owner long since run away screaming. As we approach the dog, it picks up the whole cart and faces us. It wags its tail.

"Awww, that doesn't look so bad," Nova says,

"Yeah, look at the little, er, big guy. He's just looking for a snack!"

The cart makes a horrible noise as the dog crushes it between its teeth, before swallowing it whole. It made a disgusting noise, but the look on its face said it was a distorted growl.

"You really want to boop its little nosey-wosey, huh?" Sparx says, dripping with about as much sarcasm as usual for him. 

The dog lunges at us,

"Firing torso canons," Mandarin says, the dog flinches, two large chunks of fur flying off and sizzling on the concrete. Its fur was thick enough that the lasers barely made a dent.

The dog shakes the blast off, like it was shaking off water. It lunged again, headbutting the robot in the chest. I can hear the foot crusher duo yelp in surprise as they fight to regain balance. 

"Firing finger missiles!" Sparx shouts. We're able to stabilize while the dog recovers, then goes for another attack. It's back legs and tail swinging around towards the robot's head…

Ah. That's me. I don't have much time to think. The initial impact will be horrible, but my ship stopping will feel like being struck  _ twice _ . Hell, I could be thrown against the back of my cockpit and be unable to move for the rest of the battle. I need to roll with the punches, as an old trainer would say. In this case, it's roll with the dog's tail, which sounds like a poorly translated Veron proverb. The super robot isn't flexible enough for me to move back far enough by myself, and I don't have enough time to tell Otto and Nova to step back. A terrible idea crosses my mind.

I brace for impact, hitting the button to disengage the second I feel any force.

The robot’s head goes  _ flying. _ Of course, I fly in this ship nearly every day, but only while it’s in Brain Scrambler mode. This is the equivalent of being inside a brick while someone is throwing it. No control in the slightest. A second passes, the wings spread and my falling is slowed. I steer back towards the battle and fire at the dog.

I hit a de-fluffed part and it explodes in a shower of metal parts and synthetic fur. 

That was quick.

“What kinda move was  _ that _ Antauri? That was amazing!” Sparx says,

“A creative one,” I say,

“You alright, buddy?’ Otto asks, 

My heart is beating in my ears, the adrenaline is still buzzing through my body, and I feel a twitch in my stomach. “I’m fine, I’m-” I laugh, this was a lot in one moment, “I’m a little shaken up.”

“Good job out there!”

‘Thank you, Nova.”

“Never do that again.” Mandarin scolds,

“I was attempting to-”

“You’ve gotten yourself killed, or even destroyed part of the robot.”

“It was a clever use of the laws of motion, Mandarin, had he remained connected to the robot, the potential energy would’ve spent itself in whatever way possible, and the only place that would’ve been Antauri.”

“Yeah, Gibson’s got a point! Without disengaging himself, the impact probably would’ve destroyed the engage/disengage mechanism. He’d be stuck in there until I cut him out, and his controls would probably be non-functional because of all the safety protocols in that area that keeps the robot from zapping itself!” Gibson and Otto were never ones to talk back to Mandarin, that job falling to Sparx and I, but their calls were sound.

“Hm,” Mandarin growls, “Don’t pull something like that unless absolutely necessary, Antauri.”

“Yes, sir.” I reengage with the robot, and take a couple seconds to  _ breathe _ . 

As my heart rate slows, I notice a fluttering in my stomach. No, a little lower. I put my hand over it, and I can’t feel the motion from the outside, but it’s still happening. Focusing with the power primate, I can feel the tiny life force, agitated and moving. For reasons unknown to me, my child is hard to focus on, so small and weirdly amorphous. Still foreign, but much more familiar. It was easier to think about when it was a singular point. It stops, but the very fact that it happened is making me giddy. 

I enter the command center carrying a thought I can’t let go; They are  _ alive _ . I knew they were before, but now they’re alive in a way my monkey brain can conceptualize. They’re going to survive. Probably. My excitement about this finally reveals my true feelings about this, devoid of logic. I want this so badly. I already love them. Or him, or her… whatever they turn out to be. I can’t even imagine what I was thinking of when I was considering getting rid of them.

Otto catches my attention, making eye contact, glancing down, then back up. I notice that my hand is still on my stomach. I nod at him and clasp my hands behind my back. I had no idea Otto could be so subtle. Actually, the fact that he’s this subtle with secrets makes me a little worried about what other secrets he’s hiding, but I’m not in a position to press him about that. I give him a smile. 

Mandarin approaches me not ten seconds later, grabs me by my shoulders, and kisses me. I smile as I pull away.

“Did I scare you?”

“No- yes” Mandarin sputters, “No. Just-”

He kisses me again. He’s adorable. I’d tell him this if he’d stop kissing me anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter so far and that's because I mashed two chapters together. I really want to start doing longer chapters, but I really doubt it's gonna happen.


	5. A Familiar Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otto and Sparx introduce this fic to swearing. Also more baby moments.

I lie awake in bed. I’ve grown quite fond of the night ever since my child started moving. It’s been about two weeks since I first felt them move. It's irregular, but more common every day. Night time is the only time where I can really pay attention to it, to every kick and every little shift. Without my extrasensory experience, I wouldn't be able to feel anything but a faint fluttering. At night I lay on my back, hand on the soft curve of my abdomen, just feeling them, listening to the little signals their soul keeps sending out. Most nights this task would put me to sleep, but tonight rest seems very far away.

Nothing a little tea can't fix.

I step lightly to the kitchen, and fill up the kettle in the dark. Should Sparx catch me up this late again, he’ll accuse me of sneaking around in the dark, which  _ I am _ doing. It’s not my fault my night vision is so much better than his. I plug the kettle in, and a little pink light tells me it's on. I have a few minutes before it boils. As I'm heading back to my room to grab a book, or a blanket, I hear a  _ zap _ and an ' _ow, shit_ _'_ from Otto's room. 

Seems he's awake as well. 

I knock on his door, and I hear another swear, some metal clanking, before he opens his door to greet me.

“Hi Antauri, did I wake you up?”

“No, you’re fine. I was already awake.”

“Finding it hard to sleep? I feel you, come in!”

“Thank you, Otto.”

Otto’s room is never what one should consider clean. There’s always some kind of project out with all the required tools as well. He couldn’t just be unoccupied. I know the feeling well, clearing my mind being the biggest thing I struggled with during my training with the Verons. Otto immediately grabs a smaller part of whatever he was working on, and pulls up two of his work chairs. The chairs were two of the ones that came with the robot, modified to Otto’s liking, and were remarkably more comfortable than they once were. Sitting in the light of his busy room, I can tell just how obvious my belly was getting. It was still easy to deny it, but this was an outside change, one that others would question in the case I don’t tell them soon.

“Is my bump as obvious as I think it is?”

“Right now?” he shrugs, “It looks more like you’re getting a little pudgy.”

“I’m unsure of my opinion on that,”

“I mean, I gained a little weight, and nobody’s really questioned it.” he pats his belly in demonstration. I hadn’t even realized that he wasn’t just fluffy, “And if you  _ are _ gaining weight, that’s good! You should have a little extra pudge in case you have a day where you’re vomiting your guts out.” 

“I hope I don’t have another of those.”

“They’ll be squishing all your organs around in a few months, it’ll probably happen, it’s like-” he grabs a few things off his desk, holding his little project in his tail. In a feat of engineering skill, he twists a bit of scrap metal into something that resembles a stick figure. He takes a rubber ball, one I’ve seen him play with on long days in the command center, and smashes it into the metal’s abdomen. It makes a creaking noise as it bends to accommodate the ball, and I can’t help but imagine it sounds like it’s in pain. “Well, probably not  _ just _ like this, monkey babies are tiny and you’ve only got one. But it’s a bit like this. Everything shoves up and out of the way.”

“That’s distressing. Where did you find out about all this?”

“Despite what Gibson says, I’m actually really good at researching. Sometimes things just catch my interest and then I fill up my brain with as much info about it as I can. Usually it’s about mechanical stuff but sometimes it’s medical stuff. You should see some of the crossovers between the two! The wonders of mesotechnology and biotechnological mechanicalisms!”

“I do not know what those last few words mean.”

“It’s like. Nanobots. Two different types of super tiny bots. They do cell stuff. I might have made up the second word. Not sure.”

“That’s very impressive, if you ask me. You have quite the collection of knowledge.” I say, and Otto looks back over to me with the dorkiest grin on his face. To me he’s so obviously a genius that it hasn’t occurred to me that the other monkeys might not have given him the validation for it. He’s speechless for a few seconds, moving his hands in ways that seem like speech gestures for a few seconds, before he shakes his head and changes the subject.

“Your water is boiling, I heard it beep,”

“Oh?” I hadn’t even realized how much time had passed, or even heard the timer go off. His sound sensitivity is a gift. “Thank you, Otto. Would you like a cup of tea, too?”

“No thanks. I’m good.”

I leave his room with a smile. Otto is an absolute delight. He’s also made me simultaneously more relaxed and more terrified about my situation. Maybe he can even help give me the courage to tell the others. I pour boiling water over my chamomile leaves to steep, and unplug the kettle. For reasons that I know on the surface level are related to pregnancy, but still don’t make sense to me, the smell gives me a craving for something ridiculous. Do we even have cheese crackers? A cupboard shuffle later and I have my horrific snack. I’m crunching in the dark when the light flicks on with a click. It’s a familiar scene.

“Do  _ not _ go all horror movie monster on me again.” Sparx points at me accusingly, “My heart can’t take that kind of fear.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Good.” He pours himself a cup of orange juice from the fridge. His sips pensively, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yes. I made myself some tea.”

“Sweet,”

“Actually it’s chamomile,”

“You know what I meant, Antauri”

“Yes I know.” I say, sipping my tea. It still needs to cool down, “Are midnight snacks a regular thing for you?”

“Yeah, but I wish it wasn’t. Sometimes I just want to sleep through the night.”

“Of course.”

“Maybe I should try- wait. What are you eating?” He moves to the table, “Is that  _ ranch? _ ”

“Possibly.”

“And those shitty cheese crackers that got shoved to the back of the cupboard?”

“You are correct in your observations, Sparx.”

“That snack is an affront to all things good." He laughs, "what are you? pregnant?"

The correct way to react to a joke like that would be to laugh with him, or to roll my eyes, or to give any indication that this seems like an absurd suggestion to me. But because  _ for whatever reason  _ this joke took so long to register as a joke, my eyes widen in surprise.

And for Sparx, that's enough. "Wait. Are you?"

I give no answer, for Sparx has already deduced an answer for himself.

"Oh. Oh no, no way. Tell me you're not,"

I munch pensively.

"So you  _ haven't  _ just been getting fat!"

"Excuse me?"

"You think I wouldn't notice? I have the best eyes on this team! You're lucky I fear Mandarin enough to not mention it...but this blows everything else out of the water!"

"Yes, it was unexpected."

"Hah! Gibson owes me a new paint job on my fist rocket!"

"For what?"

"This is more concrete evidence that you fucked Mandarin than a verbal confession!"

"You  _ bet _ on our sex life? Wh- And you bet in favor?"

"Gibson said you were too proper, but I think you can  _ get it _ ! And I'm right!"

"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or offended by that."

"Gosh, what did Mandarin think?"

"Uh-"

"You. You've  _ told _ him right?" His excitement is fading fast.

Another, more shameful crunch.

"Oh my god.  _ Gibson _ at least knows, right? The  _ doctor _ on our team?"

"You and Otto are the only ones I've told."

"And he had to grill you to get it, didn't he?" 

I nod. Sparx grows increasingly angry. For good reason, too. He rubs his face in exasperation, before gesturing towards me in a way I’ve only ever seen directed at Gibson on his last nerve. 

"Antauri, I hope you agree with me when I say this, but you are the biggest idiot in the city."

"I am aware of this," 

"How couldn't you have told  _ anyone _ ?"

"I didn't think they'd survive! I'm still not sure!" 

"And if they didn’t, they'd take you with them!" Sparx says, somewhere between shock and rage.

I know I'm going to get agitated if I listen to him for much longer. I also know that he's right, but I can't stand to face the guilt of all my problems at once. I begin to take my tea back to Otto's room.

"Hey, you can't walk away from this!"

"I know. But I can't make it better all at once." I turn around at the entrance to the kitchen. "If you think my life, or  _ theirs-" _ I gesture to my bump, "is at risk, you have my permission to tell whoever you think necessary."

"I'd  _ like _ for you to tell him yourself." He sighs. "Before our next battle."

"I'll. I'll try." I turn back around. 

"Talk to Otto about it. He can help you more than I can."

"What do you mean?

"He- he's just better at this stuff. He listens. He's probably listening to me jab at you right now."

"Good night, Sparx."

Otto's door is open. I almost walk past it, but I know I'd wallow in my guilt if I didn't do  _ anything _ to take my mind off of what I'm doing. Soon I’m sitting in one of Otto’s chairs, sipping tea, enjoying his presence. This may be the first time since my earliest days of training that I've sought out someone else's emotional support. 

He doesn’t say anything, just works on his project. It doesn’t really look like something in particular, a mess of spare joints from his scrap bin. He clicks the parts together a few times before twisting it even further. He puts a pair of gears at one end, one gear much smaller than the other. To the same axle as the smaller gear, he puts a pair of plastic covers, shaped like stars. Each of the points of the stars is sanded smooth, blunt enough to never pose a threat, but still sharp enough to be recognizable. When all has clicked into place, he tests it a couple times, moving the scrap joints, watching the stars spin. It's quiet. Then he hands it to me.

I set my tea on the work table to study the little machine in both hands. The construction was immaculate. All made from scraps he had on hand. Watching the stars spin noticeably made my heart rate slow. 

"For you. Or, maybe later, for them."

"Otto, thank you.. I-" my thought is cut off by a twitch in my stomach, a lot stronger than the ones I felt earlier tonight. Then another. I can only put my hand over my bump, I hadn't felt them move since I first got out of bed.

"Are they moving?"

"Yes. It's a lot more than I'm used to."

"Wow, uh," he wrings his hands, "could I feel?"

"I'm unsure if they are strong enough for you to feel them from the outside… but you may touch."

Otto very tenderly places his hand on my bump. It's a weird few moments, being the first time anyone else has touched my stomach so carefully. It feels ridiculous until I feel another movement, and Otto looks up at me with the biggest smile I've ever seen on him. He felt it too.

“They’re trying to say thank you, too,”

Otto puts his hand on his chest, a tiny whisper of a squeal coming from his open-smiling mouth. He reels as if he’s been hit in slow motion, the dots on his eye shields somehow turning heart-shaped. His hands do the partial speech gesture thing again, before giving away to pure  _ hand flapping _ . I am not usually one to see Otto’s hand flapping so close, an event usually reserved for Gibson or Sparx. Nova if she’s lucky. If he flaps much more I’m afraid he would take flight. He mouths the word “baby” in his too-excited-for-voice state, and covers his face with his hands, his tail taking the energy from the flapping. He squeals again. 

“I’m guessing you’re happy about the baby,”

Otto nods, and wipes an errant tear from his eye. “I guess I’m getting a little worked up, but,” he laughs, “Babey!!”

“Baby.”

“The team will love them!”

“I think you’re loving them enough right now to cover for the whole team twice.”

“Is there any doubt that they will?”

“...”

“Aw Tauri,” That’s a new nickname. “The fact that you love them will be enough to convince anyone who thinks otherwise. We all love you!”

I have no idea if he’s aware of the sheer  _ weight _ that he’s lifted off of my shoulders, but I feel immediately better. It’s a line of reasoning that could’ve come right out of my own teachings, delivered through the familiar words of a friend. Otto is truly a great monkey. I spin the stars on Otto’s creation once more, the physical gift being the least of what he’s given me.

“Thank you, Otto.”

He’s convinced me. I’ll tell Mandarin…

Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to thank tiny for tripling the length of this chapter. otto was a good addition.


	6. Imagination and the liquid its suspended in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antauri makes an attempt

I don't need to tell him  _ now _ . I can take the time I need to rest until morning. That is, if I can fall asleep. I could be too busy either rehearsing ways to break the news to Mandarin or thinking about the baby. I know that waiting until morning is another way for me to put this off, and that I will  _ definitely  _ have thought of some sort of excuse, or something will come up… but it  _ sounds _ reasonable. I don't want to wake him up in the middle of the night, he sleeps like a rock and probably won't even remember what I tell him. 

If I want him to be awake and aware for this news, I'd want to wait until at least mid-morning, and then I'll want to wait until after patrols, and so on. I can  _ see _ the problems in my line of thinking and I know that it's bad. But having the knowledge and executing the knowledge are two different things. That's partially what my job is, catching a troubling line of thinking and interrupting it with advice, but it seems to be a much harder task when I'm the monkey I need to interrupt. 

I go back to thinking of ways to tell Mandarin, but none of them sound right and even imagining the reality in which I tell Mandarin at this point is bringing up thoughts that are completely irrational but make sense to the anxiety ridden mind.

Oh yes, good morning Mandarin. You're going to be a father and I've spent the past 3-4 months knowingly putting their life and mine in danger. Hi Mandarin, I kept a secret from you for months because I was scared of how you'd react and now I'm scared of how you'd react to me being scared of your reaction. Hey Mandarin did you have any life plans? Me either here's a news bomb that will change even the slightest plan you had in mind. 

I am so stupid. If I hadn't waited, then this would be a lot easier. But it's not wise to dwell on the past. I can no longer change it. Perhaps the power primate could lead to some insight.

I sit up, cross my legs, and focus on the energy around me. The waves of energy move, pushed by the life within it. Follow these waves and you find the life it originated from, and influence these waves and you can create messages for people listening. but I am not looking in a direction that has a direct translation, the closest word being ‘forward’. Forward in time. We can understand going forward and backwards in time, and with a bit of explaining, left, right, up and down. The energy of the power primate can be described as fourth, possibly fifth dimensional. As a third dimensional being, I can only grasp up to the existence of the fourth, and very vaguely imagine a fifth or a sixth. It’s really not as complicated as I’m making it sound. I’m looking into the future using a force that extends beyond time.

Of course, each decision creates another branch in a fifth dimensional version of every direction you can conceive of in the third dimension, an infinite number of branches can come from one singular moment, creating a sixth dimensional point, an infinite amount of points in a line, the cycle continuing beyond my understanding. That’s why when looking to the future, you need a clear understanding of what is and isn’t probable, what you  _ want _ to do, and what you might do. What you see is a blurry picture of several thousands of realities, based on the actions you plan to take. The power primate carries the waves from these realities into those nearby, and into the past and the future as well. That’s where we look when attempting to foretell the future, or even discover the past. Only the highest of Verons have been able to see what  _ will _ happen, what is planned. They documented them as prophecies, filled with metaphors and poetry to prevent those unworthy from finding out what us to come before it is time. Prophecies I was not allowed to read during my training. I must be too clever to be trusted with such knowledge. What they can't restrict is what the power primate will reveal to me through my own findings.

I focus on the path that seems most likely to me first. The one where I don’t tell anyone else. I see quiet, chaos, then blood. There are plenty of realities where I take a direct hit to the stomach and bleed out, anger and fear and confusion in the eyes of the team. Some realities where the same thing happens even without complications or cause. There are some where my fear take me far away from the team, though the possibility of so many different places makes it so blurry I can’t see where. Somewhere unfamiliar. The common threads between these realities is the scared faces, the blood, and the disturbing lack of the life of my child. There are many that end in darkness for me. Whether that means I die, or my soul changes beyond the use of the power primate, I cannot tell. 

The next path is one where I tell Mandarin, but there are too many possibilities so close to mine, that I can’t make sense of it at all. It could be due to me rehearsing so many different whens and ways to tell him. The broad search was too much for me to see anything useful. No, to see anything after the initial news, I’ll need to pick  _ one  _ to try. I visualize a simple one, where I make him coffee early in the morning and wake him up with a kiss, spending a quiet few minutes with him before telling him the news… but the power primate makes even that fuzzy, it’s own way of telling me the projected reality is, as Gibson would say,  _ highly improbable. _

Wishful thinking on my part for believing this could be peaceful.

Alright, let’s try another approach, let’s anchor the perception of the future in the perception of those close to me. I want to ease myself into the team’s perceptions of the future, so I look at Nova’s first, one who is unaware of the inevitable change. She sees a cycle ahead. She dreads her next training, for reasons she’s buried under other feelings. I may have to speak to her about that… after I sort out my own problems. Stay focused. Gibson has no idea as well, to my detriment. He sees a cycle like Nova does.

I try Otto next. His perceptions-- according to his actions-- are optimistic… but what he sees is disturbing. He has an idea of what will happen, and despite his optimistic appearance, he’s convinced it’ll end in disaster. Yet he sees a cycle, same as Nova? That makes no sense. Perhaps his perception works different than mine, causing me to look in the wrong direction? But that would mean a disaster has already happened to him, or nearly happened, and such an event would've been noticed… probably. It seems much more likely that he is just deceivingly pessimistic, or  _ realistic _ about what he believes is to come.

I anchor my foretelling on Mandarin. He senses a great change in the future. One for the better, that can only be described as a staircase of events. He has a plan, as well. He's trained in the same way as me. I do not expect to find much detail, for if he wants his plan to be a surprise, he'll know how to cover it. He's also likely to know I've been seeking answers about the future from the residual waves left by my disturbance. But if he asks me why, that will save me the stress of creating my own way of breaking the news. When Mandarin is curious, he knows how to probe for more info. 

That's it. A reality caused by me, most likely to happen. The path I would like to travel. I visualize the situation. Mandarin would corner me after breakfast, but before patrols. Scheduled downtime on Mondays. Time enough for him to ask me why I was looking to the future. For me to say I've been worried, to hear his questions, then finally speak. His reaction begins with surprise, of course, but then the timeline gets blurry. The amount of possibilities is dizzying. One reality he slashes his sword at the wall next to him, destroying several non-essential circuits in a stream of electrical zaps. One he hugs me and nearly dances at the news. One where he threatens me directly. Another he sobs into my chest out of worry for his child.

It's clear he's going to act out of impulse, and I'm not sure I like those chances.

I am not thinking rationally. I should sleep, for I could be looking into very unlikely futures right now. He could take it very well, for all I know. Or not even ask me at the time I predicted. That is the magic of seeing into the future.

I open my eyes, only to close them again seconds later, under a blanket and laying down.

Of course, before I can really think much more about sleep, I hear the sounds of the other team members exiting their rooms for breakfast. How long was I thinking for? Did I sleep? I must have.

Mandarin is cooking breakfast, as usual. I sit down at the table, Otto gives me a smile, as does Sparx, but one resonates more as a threat. Or maybe both of them do. With Otto's disastrous view of the future I don't doubt he'd hold back from threatening me with a weapon if he thought it would help me somehow. 

Mandarin serves us our breakfast, and I eat a little quicker than I usually would. I want to get over with.this over with. But at the moment everything seems normal.

Nova is still drowsy, the caffeine in her drink not having kicked in yet. Otto winces when Gibson accidentally scrapes his fork on his plate, causing the scientist to mutter a quick sorry. Mandarin sits down last, adding a bit of pepper to his meal. Suddenly I’m a lot calmer. I know that in the  _ worst _ case scenario, even Nova, who’d have no idea the reason or context, would jump to my aid.

This is my family, so why do I doubt them?

When I’m nearly done, Mandarin makes eye contact with me, then nods to the hallway. I take a sip of water, as Otto and Sparx glace between me and each other in a sense of excitement. 

“Prepare for patrols, everybody.” Mandarin says as he stands to leave. I follow behind him. This is the moment I foretold.

“Antauri, I woke up today only to feel the residual waves of someone searching deep into the future nearby. Is something troubling you?”

“Yes, there is.” I take a deep breath. Don’t think about this, or it won’t happen. “I’ve received some news.”

“That’s an odd coincidence, the power primate has been giving me hints of a big change to come for months now.” He then crosses his arms. “Is it good news?”

“It’s a matter of perspective.”

“Then it’s likely not the news I was warned of.”

I wasn’t expecting this, but he  _ has _ probably been hiding this as well as I’ve been hiding my news, “Is it something I should dread?”

“I have reason to believe that  _ something _ will happen to the city, and the team will be too late to stop the damage from being permanent.”

“You’re positive it’s the city?”

“Well, that  _ is  _ our mission. Though the part of protection doesn’t seem enough when we don’t even take out the source.” He shakes his head, “Sorry, I’m getting off track. What is the news you’ve gotten?”

“I found out that I-” I stutter, try again, “I’m going to-” Try again.

“You’re having a really hard time with this. You sure you want to tell me right now?”

“I’m on a time limit. Either I tell you soon or you figure it out for yourself.”

“Antauri, you know you can te-”

But his comforting statement was cut off by an alarm that makes me jump. It takes a lot to not swear in frustration, but it seems Mandarin has it covered.

“Damn it to the dark realms!” he clenches his fist in anger, "I'll keep my eye out for any big changes, and we'll finish this conversation after this battle."

I am going to scream. 

Not sure when. But it will happen. Soon.


	7. Oh no.

“What’s the attack?” Mandarin asks.

“Some unidentified science project.” Gibson focuses one of our security cameras on the creature, a shambling blob of a dark liquid. “Escaped from a lab on the border of the city, but has made its way to the central sectors. Too small to use the robot without causing more collateral damage than the monster would’ve caused on its own.”

“Team! Prepare for hand to hand combat in sector 8!” Mandarin shouts.

Sparx makes a noise of disgust, “More like hand to sludge combat, look at that thing!”

“Enough quips, monkeys mobilize!”

One by one, the team goes to the tubes to exit. As I turn to go as well, I’m stopped by Sparx with a hand on my shoulder.

“Woah, woah. You aren’t thinking of  _ fighting _ like this, are you?” He looks almost as if he’s scolding a child, “Unless, you  _ still _ haven’t told him. Did you tell him?”

“He knows something’s wrong. And apparently he  _ senses _ something is wrong but I was interrupted before I could actually say what’s happening.”

Sparx presses his hands to his face and groans. He mumbles something about hot and cold colors.

“C’mon you two, let’s go!” Nova calls. We start to the tubes.

“Just hang back out there. I’d offer to cover you, but one shock from me and they’re dead. Don’t do anything risky or else you’re gonna give Otto a heart attack.”

“I  _ know _ .” Just because I’m having to protect myself extra doesn’t mean I’ve become stupid. I was clearly stupid for going out to begin with, but I’m still one of Gibson’s least-frequent patients.

We step out and take off, heading for the sector the creature is attacking. It looks more like an animated puddle of oil than a creature. Gibson fires off a test shot from the air. It makes a horrible noise, and a small hemisphere of solidified… whatever it is flies off of it. Somehow, it didn't seem to notice. We land, weapons out, in front of it. 

The thing stops undulating through the street for a few seconds, staring at us without much of a face. Then, ever so slowly, it produces an appendage. It either creates it on the spot, or reveals it from under the ooze. The gooey creature swipes at us with a surprising amount of speed, only for it to be met with Mandarin's sword. A chunk flies behind him, landing with a sickening  _ squelch.  _ It  _ definitely  _ felt that.

Several more appendages revealing themselves cue us to jump into action. Every move it makes is accompanied by the sound of bubbling and clicking, and a shiver runs down my spine. I don't keep track of who goes left and who goes right, but within seconds we have the creature surrounded. 

"Otto, Antauri! Switch!" Mandarin shouts above the gurgling. I jump at a higher lump in the creature, taking a splatter of ooze with me, and passing by Otto, who is doing the same. I hear several more shouts,followed by the buzzing of attacks from Sparx and Gibson. A hear a whooshing behind me as I land, and I swipe at the appendage coming towards me. While not as clean of a cut as Mandarin's, it sizzles as it scatters across the pavement. 

"It's got me!" Otto shouts. I can't see him from my end of the ooze, but I still look over to see what's happening. 

Only to get a face full of oozy appendage. 

It's a lot like when I was inside the brain scrambler, hurtling through the air. Except this time, I can't remove my own head to soften the blow and I'm desperately protecting my midsection. A passing thought about the super robot protecting the living quarters goes through my mind. I tuck my legs in as much as I can as I bounce once on my right arm, then again on my left leg, coming to a stop next to a car. I brace myself to open my eyes.

In the words of an ancient proverb, translated into several thousand languages from the language of one of the most joy filled and happy species in the face of fear. 

"Ah. Okay."

Suffice to say, looking down and seeing blood made me panic. 

Calm down. Calm Down Calm Down Calm Down.

I'm too full of adrenaline to think right. I breathe in, then out. Time enough to notice that the blood is coming from my knee, and my stomach isn't in any pain. It isn’t even that much, just a scratch. I have nothing to worry about.

For right now. KoI’m unsure if the creature can see me, but I scramble to my feet. I take out another chunk of oily… whatever. Gibson will probably analyze it later. The creature is shifting and changing its shape that any notion of anything permanent underneath the goop has been thrown out the window. It is a creature without form. A formless. That’s a good name for it. I’ll have to run that by Otto so he can add it to the monster database. Though I wouldn’t want to fight another one of these things in the future. The splatters are already clumping in my fur. 

The formless takes another swing at me, I jump to dodge, only to be hit with another limb I hadn’t even seen. No, not hit. Grabbed. My arms are pinned to the sides of my body, and the grip is only getting tighter. While the leg injury was nothing to worry about, broken ribs might be a problem. The automatic safety measure that keeps me from searing myself with my own weapon is keeping my weapons from activating, an incredibly counterintuitive safety measure. Then again, if I couldn’t cut through the formless fast enough, I’d just horribly injure myself. A second later and it’s now hard to breathe.

“Lady tomahawk!” Nova shouts, and then I’m flying through the air again. I guess this is a common occurance now. I don’t get the opportunity to fly for long, thankfully. Nova catches me in one hand, an easy feat for her when she has her weapons out. I’m being grabbed again, but I trust Nova to only break my ribs if I deserve it.

“Thank you Nova, I-” 

“Sparx told me what’s up.” Her face is serious, and I can tell she’s inspecting me for injuries. Especially around my abdomen. My position makes me feel like my bump is even more obvious than usual.

“Ah.” Is all I say. She sets me down out of reach of the formless. 

“Do  _ not _ get up until we’re done.”

“I’m not-”

“Antauri, you’re supposed to be the wise one here. The last time I fought while injured you forbade me from training until I was better. I know you outrank me, and you don’t  _ have  _ to listen to me, but  _ please _ .”

I sit with my arms crossed over my stomach, a little peeved, but she’s right. I nod at her. If anyone can talk sense into me…. Well it’s usually Mandarin, but Nova is amazing at talking to people. She jumps back into action. The battle seems to be going fine without me, or as well as I was before. the formless is just as foreign to them as before. 

It smacks Nova against a wall with a crack. I can’t quite make out what Mandairn shouts, but it’s followed by Sparx and Gibson firing at the formless together, and the formless exploding. It’s everywhere, on the sides of the buildings, covering cars, on a few stray human spectators, all over me, and all over the team as well. Otto runs over to help Nova.

I wipe the goop off of my eye shields and flick it onto the ground. My leg is stinging. Actually, it’s almost burning. There is formless ooze over my cut and it’s burning. I take off the biggest chunks and clean around the wound, as Gibson walks up to me.

“Antauri? Are you alright?

“I’m fine, just a scratch, I’m just afraid of what this ooze is doing to it.” Gibson is quick to flush the scratch with some sort of solution from his drill, and the stinging stops. “That feels better. Thank you, Gibson.”

“Of course,” He says, continuing to check the cut, “It didn’t look so bad, why did you tap out so soon?”

The rest of the team, besides Mandarin, is converging behind him. Mandarin has busied himself with a worried looking human who is insisting on trying to talk to him. 

“Nova’s orders.” I say. Gibson looks to Nova, who then looks to Sparx, who looks at me. It’s like playing hot potato with a secret. Nobody wants to break the news of my irresponsibility. Otto leans over and whispers something to Gibson, who looks at my midsection, and then the ground as if he was having a crisis. Sparx and Nova are staring a hole in my face. Mandarin walks over.

“Hello? What’s happening?” He asks. “Antauri, why did you stop fighting?” I flick a piece of formless off my chest, avoiding his gaze. Nova and Gibson now know the severity of the secret. 

“Mandarin, we need to get Antauri to the med bay. He-” Gibson pauses, looks at me. Then notably, he looks at Otto, “Some ooze got into a wound of his and is causing some side effects.”

“Oh!" Mandarin scoops me up in his arms. "Let's go, then. We have had enough setbacks. That human couldn't seem to get it through his mind that I don't speak human."

I kiss him, both as thanks, and as a way to get him to stop talking about how stupid he thinks humans are. I really can't take many more words right now.

In the med bay, Nova and I sit on the tables. Otto attends to Nova, her injuries primarily around her transformers. Sparx, the only one not immediately needed, went with Mandarin to go over the creature, and do our routine strategizing when it comes to new monsters. The formless ooze seemed to just fall out of our fur as soon as we left the area. Very convenient. 

Gibson, on the other hand, is in the process of clearing out a drawer of gadgets, looking for something specific. 

"Four months!? Are you  _ trying _ to kill both you and your child? I'm sure everyone else has lectured you for this but by the  _ stars _ Antauri!" Gibson rants.

"It's in the one to your left," Otto calls out.

Nova looks confused. "What are you even looking for?" 

"This!" Gibson says, though it's more of a celebration than an answer, "it's a 'secondary lifeform' vital tracker,"

He's holding up a very generic-looking box, one with a scanner screen on the side, and adapting plugs on the other. There are a couple slots in the side that seem like straps of some kind once went there. 

"It'll let us see baby's vitals. Heart rate and oxygen stuff." Otto explains. A lot of our tech came with the robot, and though it is an odd scanner, I cannot think of anywhere else it could've come from. 

"Lay down," Gibson raises half of the table to an angle, making a pseudo-chair. I comply. Gibson places the device on my bump, "hold this here. I'm not sure where the strap went. We can replace it later, since we will  _ actually _ be using it now."

He pulls a monitor down from the ceiling, then plugs it into the scanner. He types a couple things into the monitor, then looks puzzled. He presses a couple buttons. Still puzzled. I can't see the monitor from my table, but the three other monkeys can.

"Is it working?" Nova asks.

"Not properly. I think? These vitals are all over the place." I can feel myself starting to panic. It must've shown on the monitor, because Gibson looks at me. "Antauri, it's alright. These vitals are pretty much impossible to keep for this amount of time. It's clearly the machine."

Of course, that's Otto's department. He reaches over, and begins troubleshooting. There's a bit of typing on the screen, but he quickly goes to the scanner itself. He flicks a small switch, then goes back to the monitor. "Okay, and then we switch these two inputs and-" I'm expecting him to declare it fixed, but his face goes from concentration to shock. He puts his hand over his mouth, and presses another key. 

"What's happening?" I ask.

Whatever the monitor is showing now surprises Gibson as well. 

"Is something wrong?" I still can't see the screen. I have no clue what could be happening. 

Nova looks confused for a second, as if processing, then she joins the other two in fearful expressions. I sit up.

"Nothing is…  _ wrong _ per say. Just-" Gibson finally turns the screen to me. "Look."

The screen has many different vitals, and an ultrasound, the heart rates displayed at the top. My heart rate, while faster than normal, is not as fast as the heart rate displayed beneath it. Or the one directly below  _ that _ one, normal for a fetus… wait. The heartbeats are different. Two heartbeats besides mine? No. No way. The ultrasound has two distinct entities highlighted. Two of them. 

"Gibson. I am reading two heartbeats. That aren't mine. Gibson?"

"Twins."

"Hmm." I say. I can see my own heart rate quicken, though it doesn't register to me. "Excuse me, team."

I lay down all the way, cover my face with both hands, and send all of this panic into the power primate. It could only be translated as screaming. Two. That explains why I've gotten so big so soon. Irregular movements. Twice as many kids. Twice as many things to prepare for. Twice as many names. Twice as many complications. Twice as many things to tell Mandarin about. Hell, it's twice as many as I thought i was having, yet the amount Mandarin is thinking is _zero._

"Fuck." I say under my breath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaannnd here we go. The first of many twists. I mean, one of the twists is in the show, but golly is this one a doozy. Yeah a large part of me is going "is this too much?" while posting this and the other part is going "This fic was already too much, do what you want. Also you canNOT replan those kids' entire life stories."
> 
> So yeah. Twins. As if this fic wasn't already ridiculous. 
> 
> Whatever I'll never be able to live up to "on a doorstep" in terms of babies.
> 
> Also! Formless! I got a few friends who go HOG WILD over these little guys.


	8. Miscommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day. What's more romantic than sending your partner into a breakdown?

I know I won’t die, now that Gibson knows. Most likely. Gibson is an incredibly skilled doctor, but he’s still only been taught by textbooks, practice and instinct. He’s given me an “until further notice” lease from training and fighting. I’m sitting in the common area with a cup of tea, waiting for Mandarin to burst through a door and yell at me. Beyond a dark reading in the power primate, I don't have any idea why that is my first idea of what he's going to do. Mandarin doesn't shout unless he's on his last nerve. Even then, I've never been on the receiving end of that rage. 

The tea remains untouched. I could vomit if I tried to drink it. Everyone on the team felt my distress, all primates having a connection to the power primate, but Mandarin is the only one trained to listen. I was trained in the power primate as well. I know it is irrational, but Mandarin scares me right now. Not a lot of things scare me anymore. I know that I can figure my way out of most pinches, and battle has always lent itself to momentary jolts rather than true fears. It could be pregnancy hormones making my slight anxiety magnify into something larger. I’m sensing a hint of something scary in the waves he sends into the power primate.

Which is why I flinch the second the tube wooshes, announcing his presence. I stand up, and take a deep breath. When I turn to face him, he looks  _ furious. _ Not even his ‘I’m just disappointed’ face, not his ‘try harder’ face. He only looks this murderous when he’s actually going to kill something during battle. I can feel my fur fluff up in an involuntary fear response. 

“Manda-”

“Antauri.” He crosses his hands behind his back, “We never finished our conversation this morning.”

“Yes, I- I wanted to tell you-”

“I heard you scream. You  _ really _ don’t want to tell me.” So he picked that much up from it.

“I do, I really want to I’m just-”

“Scared?”

I nod. I can hear my heart beating.

“I expect better from you, Antauri.” He takes a step forward. I take a step back. “The Verans always said not to let fear dictate your actions.”

“I know what the Verons said, I know how unreasonabl-”

“Unreasonable? Antauri, you’re more than unreasonable. We had an agreement about secrets.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was going to tell you- I just-” I take another step back. Mandairn is outputting his own signal into the power primate, one that primitive groups would’ve used to signal danger. Or to call others to arms. It was one of restrained violence, either from one’s self or from others.

“Why was it so hard, then?”

I can’t give an answer. He takes another step forward. 

“Do  _ they _ know? Did you tell the team?” He gestures to the monkeys who have now left the medbay, and are huddling together, watching this happen. They aren’t interfering, but I don’t blame them. Each of them have been on the receiving end of a Mandarin Lecture before. Even at his most mild, it is not pleasant, and this is among the worst he’s ever been.

I don’t give a verbal answer, only back away more, arms and tail around my stomach. I continue to shake.

“It’s a secret from me.”

“No, Mandarin-”

“And only me. I don’t expect any of them to keep a secret to themselves for long.”

“They were just-”

“Just what?”

“Just trying to help.”

“Help?”

“They wanted to help,”

“Help you with what?”

I can't answer, I'm shaking too much.

"What were you planning? An attack?"

"No- not a- a plan." I take another step back and hit the wall. "An accident."

"Antauri." He moves his arms to his sides, right hand at the ready, tail low behind him. The threat of his sword is apparent, and I can't take any more. My trembling dissolves into sobs, the first time in years I've allowed myself to cry. I crumple to the floor and focus on protecting myself, protecting my children.  _ His _ children. I expect to hear another accusation, or even his weapon…

I do hear a weapon, but not the sound of a plasma beam of any form. 

The sound of saws.

I look up. Otto has put himself in between Mandarin and I, Gibson and Sparx at his sides. Nova is kneeling next to me, saying words that don't register.

“Back off, you orange freak!” Sparx shouts. Mandarin takes a step back.

I grab Nova’s arm, more of a way to ground than myself than a need for physical contact. I think I might still be crying, but I'm too far gone into panic to really care. 

“Are you in any pain?” she whispers. I’m not sure if she asked anything else. I shake my head. Sparx is demanding something from Mandarin, but I can’t hear it. “Hey. Don’t look at him. Look at me. You’re gonna be okay. “ 

She’s doing  _ my _ job. Doing it remarkably well, too. While I still feel like I'm falling, the sound of Mandarin's gloves being tossed to the side bring me instant relief. It's hard for me to pinpoint a single cause of fear, but now that I know that the team has my biggest cause covered, I can work on calming myself down. Breathing deeply, the world slows down.

"Calm down" I hear Sparx say, but it isn't to me.

“You’ve fundamentally misunderstood this entire situation.” Gibson says.

Otto remains silent, aside from the ambient buzzing of electricity in his weapons.

I take a few deep breaths, and wipe off any tears that have managed to seep out from under my eye shields. I’ve stopped crying at this point, and everyone else has calmed down as well. Otto retracts his saws, and backs off. 

We sit across from each other, on the floor. Mandarin looks thoroughly bewildered, now that he’s lost control of the conversation. It’s very obvious at this point that if he tries anything, it will be a four versus one fight. He has a temper, but he’s not stupid.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, “I may have jumped to conclusions."

I sit cross-legged, hands resting in front of me. My tail still displays stress, but it’s no longer wrapped around my body. I can’t make eye contact with him.

“Please, I want to help, I- I’ll” he unlaces the neck of his armor and slips it over his head, tossing it in the same direction of his gauntlets. He’s exposed, soft and as vulnerable as the rest of us. He holds his arms out in a display of his fragility, “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry. I was... “ take a deep breath, “More scared than I have been for a long time.”

Mandarin nods his head, urging me to continue. When I finally am able to look at his face, it is an expression I have only seen him make during his training with the Verans. He wasn't a star pupil, as you might expect from Mandarin, but every single one of his mistakes were accompanied with this face. He's beating himself up. Back in our days of Veran training, I would comfort him and help him improve, or study. This is not a situation where I can do that.

There is no right way to say what I’m about to say. It means too much, and I’ve never said it out loud before. Everyone was either told by someone else or figured it out. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever said it internally more than once. To do something difficult, one must break the task down into manageable parts. I must strip the weight from the word. 

In other words, don’t think about it.

“I’m… expecting”

“Expecting..?”

“Pregnant.” The word doesn't sound natural in my mouth, and I really do not want to say it again. It's not like I even  _ know  _ anyone else to tell. Unless one of our Veran teachers decides to call us and ask why I was screaming. 

I study his face, I can see the thoughts go through his mind in real time, as his face went from a smile, to confusion, to looking at the team. They nod. 

He looks back at me with a smile, “Really?”

“Yes,” I can’t help but smile too. 

“I.. we… When did you find out?” He asks, “Surely after our last battle… no, you wanted to tell me this right before that,”

I nod.

“But clearly not earlier than the battle before, right?” He looks as if he’s trying to figure it out for himself, despite asking me, “You didn’t fear my reaction enough to willingly put them in danger more than once… did you?”

The answer to that question was yes, but I  _ really _ don’t want to admit it. I don’t give him a verbal answer. I only stand up, smooth out my fur, then cross my arms behind my back. Given the situation, my bump is obvious now. Not huge or inconvenient, but not subtle, either. Certainly more than what Mandarin was expecting to see. I would not have been able to hide it for much longer. In a normal situation, or if I were someone else, he would’ve scolded me, or told me I was an idiot. But he knows I’ve been doing that enough to myself.

He stands up as well, and hugs me. Very, very lightly. It’s one of the softest touches I’ve ever felt. It’s as if he’s scared of breaking me.

“I’m so sorry. I-” He rubs my back. It feels nice. “I thought you were planning a coup.”

I can’t help but laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Your fears are probably not any more rational.”

“You’d be right.”

“What even stopped you? I know we’ve never discussed kids, but I can’t imagine ever hurting you,”

“I thought I was going to lose them for sure, and I didn’t want to disturb the team dynamic with something that might not even happen. But then they survived, and I was scared of your reaction. It even morphed into the fear of you  _ killing _ them,”

“It’s a surprise sure, but I’m not  _ that _ violent.”

“I think they  _ both _ inherited your sense of violence, though.” I laugh, “It seems that they only want to kick me when it’s least convenient.”

“Both?” He pulls back from the hug, holding my arms.

“Twins. I found out less than an hour ago.”

To my surprise, he starts laughing.

"Of course, of course. Because this couldn’t be even remotely simple.”

“You love to overcomplicate things, though.”

“At least you told me at a reasonable moment this time. You didn't read their futures without me, did you?"

“No, no. I wanted to do that with you.” 

“This is ridiculous, but I think it just hit me that I’m going to be a father.” Mandarin has the dorkiest grin I’ve ever seen. Now I’m laughing, too. There’s a collective sigh of relief from the team.

“It  _ still _ hasn’t hit me.”

“You’ve always been great at dodging,”

“Both questions and attacks,”

“You’ve also got a habit of trying to do dangerous things by yourself,”

“Ah,”

“You know you wouldn’t even have this problem if it wasn’t for me,” He says with a smirk. It takes a second to register the joke. I stifle a laugh, and clumsily push away his face. Leave it to Mandarin to embarrass me in the sweetest way. He’s laughing harder. I glance at the team, and Sparx elbows Gibson in the ribs. Someone whispers ‘finally’ to somebody else, but I can’t hear who.

“Let’s leave it at we should communicate better,”

"Yes, of course." He kisses me on the cheek, letting go of one arm to brush back the fur on the other side of my face. By our standards, a public display of affection. "Our first communication is establishing that you cannot participate in battle until further notice."

"I've already had that conversation today, Mandarin."

"Consider it officially endorsed, then." He turns to the team. "Monkey team, get back to your schedules. Antauri, we will discuss your role in training for the time being in a few minutes. I need a cup of tea to calm my nerves, first.”

“I will join you. Mine has gotten cold.”


	9. Reading Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antauri breaks out baby's first fortune reading. Tarot cards. Mandarin is enjoying the news of being a father, and everything seems okay. For now.

Mandarin and I lie on my bed, him resting his hand on my bump while we wait for a movement. I don't tell him that Otto got to feel them move before he did. The entire experience is a lot more relaxing than the technical first time Mandarin felt this, but only because he did so on accident. This time his touch is gentle, purposeful… and still a little weird. It’s still a foreign experience to have someone touch my abdomen with the purpose of feeling another being living inside my guts. Mandarin has quickly become bored of waiting for them.

"Are you sure you felt one move"

"They're not very strong yet. They have probably moved a lot more than either of us can feel.”

"Either of us? They’re _in_ your body, I don’t know how you can’t feel every twitch,”

“There’s an entire organ in the way of any nerves. Two, actually.” 

“Lots of that, today. I desperately hope that there isn’t anything else there’s two of I didn’t know about before,”

“They each have two heads,”

“...”

“I’m messing with you.” I laugh, Mandarin giving me one of the most solid eye rolls in years.

“Have you thought of names?”

“I have, but I can’t settle on anything more than a general theme.”

“Which is…?”

“Stars.”

“That’s about as broad as you can get.”

“It’s everything from Stella to EBLM J0555-57Ab, both of which I dislike”

“I dunno, I could imagine a little ‘J0555’ running around here.” He giggles, before putting on his mocking voice, “Hey triple five, don’t forget about training today!”

“Then people would think they’re related to our wonderful ‘SPRX-77’”

“Eugh. Out of the question then.”

“I thought you liked your team.”

“I do, but you’re _mine_ . We need names that clearly show they’re _ours_ ,”

“Humans have two-part names to solve that problem. A second name that’s passed down from the parents.”

“That seems reasonable, but it immediately runs into problems. What if two parents have different second names? Which one does the child get?”

“Nearly every human culture has a different solution to that. Some just combine the names until several generations down you have a child with an exponentially long name.”

“That’s complicated and I’m glad we don’t do it.”

“Agreed.”

“Why stars? For their names, I mean.”

“I did some digging on the meanings of the entire team’s names. Mine is a portmanteau of the two parts of a name of a star system. Alpha Centauri.”

“Isn’t that system over by the primate origin planet?”

“The one the humans abandoned, yes.”

“Did a human name you? That’s highly specific.”

“I’d say the same about your’s. It’s exactly the same as the name of a family of human languages. That originated on the populated planet closest to Alpha Centauri. The primate origin.”

“That’s odd. Who even named us?”

“Our… parents? hmm.”

Our trains of thought were simultaneously derailed before we could think about who named us further.

“Alpha Centauri. That’s a star _system_ , right?” Mandarin asks.

“Three stars.”

“Including Alpha Centauri itself?”

“No, three under the name,”

“Now _that_ would be one hell of a plot twist,”

“Less of a plot twist, and more of a repeat of a previous twist." I sigh. "In any case, Gibson _triple_ checked.”

“Good. My fur is already prickling at twins.”

“You do know that that’s _your_ fault, right?”

“What? The kids?”

“No, the fact that there’s two.”

“Oh right! My file says that under normal circumstances I’d _be_ a twin.”

“An identical twin. Like these two. If they were fraternal twins it’d be _my_ doing.”

“I… wonder what he’d be like. Theoretically just like me?”

“Dear, I can barely stand _one_ of you, two would be a nightmare.”

“There’s going to be two more of me running around here soon enough.”

“They will take after me and you know it.”

“I don’t doubt you’re right, but you’ve told me a lot about what they’ve gotten from me. Have you noticed anything from _you_?”

“Well,” I begin, but then stop. I had always been thinking of Mandarin when thinking of my children. Less mine, but his. Which is an incredible act of cognitive dissonance on my part, considering the fact that they are--quite literally--a part of me. I feel a slight shift, and move Mandarin’s hand roughly over it. I think he’s forgotten what the original purpose of laying like this was. His eyes go big as the slight shift turns into a stretch. A goofy grin spreads across his face. 

“That answers my question.”

“What?”

“They have your freakishly strong legs. One of them will probably knock my teeth out. Like you did.”

“It gave the mystics a wonderful segway into healing magic. Your tooth grew back.”

“It was painful and embarrassing. I bet Brother Tang _still_ has blood on his robes. You’ve been feeling them move the whole time?”

“Not the whole time, only in the past month or so, but that makes it even more amazing. I still haven’t gotten used to it.”

“This doesn’t seem like something you’d get used to,”

“Maybe in later months”

“If you get there,”

“Knowing your affinity for impatience, they’ll show their faces before they even leave me with stretch marks.”

“You’re covered in fur. You wouldn’t even see the stretch marks.”

“According to Otto, fur doesn’t grow on stretch marks,”

“How does he know that?”

“He’s fat.”

“Oh, right.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t notice either.”

“I noticed, I just-”

“He looks good, I know. He’s the most attractive monkey on the robot,”

“Excuse me?”

“Alright, second most attractive”

“Don’t you dare put yourself third”

“Who said you were first?” I say, and Mandarin breaks into a laugh.

“I love you. I really hope you know that.” He coos, “I love you, and you’re the funniest monkey I know.”

“I’ve known this for a long time, since...” The thought of our earliest training in fortune telling crosses my mind, “I have an idea. For the names I mean.”

“What names are you thinking of?”

“Not specific ideas,” I sit up, and hold out my hand, focusing on a chest I store my sentimental objects. A deck of tarot cards being one of them. The cloth-wrapped stack of cards floats into my hand. “But a way for us to get a better idea of who they will be.”

I unwrap the cards and begin shuffling. Card reading is a beginner’s way of divination. It doesn’t provide specifics, but it is immune to the blurriness of intersecting realities. Originally from the human talent for finding patterns where there is none, users of the power primate and other magics have found ways to allow the forces of the universe to manipulate the probabilities that are involved in shuffling a deck of cards.Mandarin moves to sit in front of me, cross legged. We have an unorthodox way of placing and reading cards, one becoming even more weird considering we are reading the future of unborn children. I place the first card of the deck in front of me.

“ _The Magician_. “ I say out loud. “Often the connection between the land of the before and the after, and the land of the living. As a person, considered very talented in many aspects,”

“That’s you. I was expecting you to be _the empress_.”

“I may be second-in-command, but I am no ruler of the universe. And neither are you.”

“You make a wonderful leader when I’m not around. In any case, you’re the bridge for them. The suit of wands is for you.”

I hand the deck to Mandarin. He shuffles the cards, then places the first card in front of him. 

“ _The Emperor._ The cards seem to be willing to be accurate today.”

“A leader who rules with love. That describes you. Suit of Swords.” then a realisation occurs to me. “Wait. Neither of the children can shuffle the cards.”

A second of silence passes, as I ponder how we’d possibly delegate the roles of the twins between us, when Mandarin places the deck on my stomach. I’m not big enough for the cards to rest there for more than a moment, and the cards slide into my lap, falling apart and even scatter a few across my bed. The deck has been shuffled. I can’t help but laugh as I gather the cards back into a stack. Not the best shuffling, but it will have to do.

“Will we draw for the oldest first?”

“Yes. While we don’t know which one that will be at the moment, we will.”

“Unless Gibson manages to pull them both out at once.”

“In which case we have a 50% chance of naming them right. That’s a horrifying visualization.”

“My mind goes to horrifying places. It’s a talent.”

“That’s why you have anxiety, Mandarin.”

“The Verans are why I have anxiety. Place the card.”

I place the third card down, between our representing cards. 

“The page of swords. The older sibling will be closer to you. They seem ambitious.”

“A high achiever. And the younger?”

Another card, to the right of the third. Queen of wands.

“Closer to me. Very noble and creative,”

“A powerful _girl_.”

“Perhaps she’ll get along with Nova.”

“Perhaps. She may see her as competition.”

“It’s unlike Nova to challenge a child.”

“But a child may challenge her,”

I can’t help but give Mandarin an incredulous look. As if I wouldn’t break up that fight before it even started. I place down another card for the oldest.

“The wheel of fortune, reversed.”

“Bad luck.”

“It’s impossible to tell if that means chance will deal them a debilitating abnormality, or if they will have a lot of bad luck throughout their life.”

“Yet they still have high ambitions. We need to support them,”

“We’ll need to support them both.” I say, putting another card down. 

“The fool?”

“The fool. She will go into a situation blindly, foolishly. We need to be prepared for that. Though that is very common for young monkeys.”

“It sounds like we are in for a hectic adventure with these two.”

“That was known from the start. They’re twins.”

“Do you have an idea for names?”

“Let’s think about it more. Draw for future events in general.”

I shuffle the cards once more, and pull a single card from the top. 

_Knight of Swords_.

A warning.

The next card should be what the warning is. 

_Knight of Wands_ , reversed. Interpersonal strife.

 _The Moon._ Awareness. Danger.

I attempt to pull the next card, but two of them are stuck together. “That is… odd,”

“It’s likely on purpose. To tell us they’re connected in some important way.”

I place the two cards down. The front card, _The Hermit_ , is obscuring the one behind it. Mandarin reaches down and separates the two. Hidden behind _The Hermit_ is _The Queen of Swords, reversed._

The Queen of Swords is a queen who uses her power to advance _herself_ forward in every situation, and is as cold as the stone throne upon which she sits. She gives nobody else support unless it is for her own gain. When reversed, she can be _very_ harmful to anybody in question. While not necessarily representing a _woman_ in power, it always represents authority and high status. A long time ago, in our first training with these cards, the mystic teaching us paused on this card. Could we be uncovering something that the Verans didn’t want us to know? I place as many cards as I can in a line below The Queen Of Swords, to find the next events for us.

 _Three of Swords._ A relationship dissolved.

 _Four of Swords_. Rest.

 _The Tower, reversed._ Large change, but not bad.

 _Page of Wands._ A creative and helpful young person.

 _Seven of Swords._ Possibilities

 _Five of Pentacles._ Loss.

 _The Hanged Man_. Sacrifice.

 _Six of Swords_. A journey.

 _Three of Cups._ Success.

 _Nine of Cups_. Achievement.

 _The Chariot, Reversed._ Conflict between two opposing views.

 _Death_. A great change in the status quo.

“Give me that!” Mandarin says, snatching the deck from my hands. The _Death_ card is not necessarily bad, but it can make people nervous, especially those with a fear of change. Mandarin starts shuffling the cards, “We’re clearly going too far into the future. Let’s try something simpler. What is the _biggest_ thing we need to worry about in this sequence of events?”

_King of Swords, reversed._

_Queen of Cups, reversed_

_Queen of Pentacles, reversed_

_The Empress, reversed._

_The Hierophant, reversed._

_The High Priestess, reversed._

_King of Cups, reversed._

_King of Wands, re-_

Mandarin throws the deck to the side, every card scattering across my room, some landing in the sand, some in the water. He had drawn every figure of power _but reversed_. Usually they mean someone in power willing to help, but when reversed, can be someone in the same position going out of their way to destroy you.

“I do believe that it is asking us to question authority.” I say, flatly.

“I think we’ve gone down a rabbit hole we weren’t supposed to.”

“Do you want to take a break on thinking of names?”

“Fortune telling in general is freaking me out. I’ve been avoiding reading my future since… well.” He looks away, his tail flicking anxiously behind him, “A few things. But a lot of my paths are going towards darkness and I don’t know how to stop it. I just don’t want this reading to be about _me,_ ”

“I doubt it’s about you. Perhaps there is a rising king that we will have to fight.”

“It almost seems like something bigger than any of us have ever imagined.” He stands up, and begins pacing along the side of my bed.

“I could see that. I have always believed that we were made for a reason.”

“The reason was always to protect Shuggazoom. To protect each other. I… Do you think we were meant for a greater purpose?”

“We save lives every day, that’s an amazing purpose.”

“But we _serve_ them. We have no motivation to protect them beyond our own honour. We… we aren’t even as effective as we _could_ be. We need to take higher action, to protect the city, to protect _them_ ,” Mandarin gestures vaguely at my abdomen, too frazzled to be precise, but his point is made.

“Mandarin, please. Calm down. This clearly needs more thought.”

“Yes, yes.” He sighs, and stops pacing. He takes one of my hands in his, feeling the metalwork with his thumb, “You’re right, this isn’t immediate. We have time.”

“We still have time on the names, too, if you want to sleep on it.”

He smiles, and places his hand on my cheek. He smoothes out a few strands of fur, “I’d like that. I’m going to take a walk. I need to think.”

He kisses me, before turning and leaving. I sit on my bed, dazed. Mandarin can be a real rollercoaster sometimes. 

_Wait a second._ He never cleaned up the cards he threw. I’m going to have to pick up 78 cards by myself. I sigh and stack the cards left on my bed together. He can be inconvenient as well. The task of cleaning up so many individual tiny objects could be accomplished very quickly with the power primate, but that would take a lot of concentration, and honestly… I can’t be bothered. I go to pick up a card, and find it takes just the _slightest_ bit more effort to lean down than I was expecting.

Right. Because I’m expecting. Hilarious. It’s a reminder that my body isn’t entirely my own anymore, now that I’ve temporarily forfeited it to my children. They will be taking up as much space as they wish. I’m just thankful that my body hasn’t changed so much that this was an impossible task. I’m also thankful that I don’t wear clothes to grow out of. I pick up cards, shaking off sand and water, until I reach one that landed perfectly upright, facing me.

The Lovers. It’s upside down in the sand. In a reading, this would be considered reversed. Often a signifier of the end of a relationship.

This isn’t a reading, this is me cleaning up afterwards. It obviously means _nothing_.

The next card I pick up is the ten of cups, one for prosperity and harmony.

I put both of them away, shoving down my feelings of anxiety about the future.

Cleaning up was no trouble in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend got me into tarot cards and I kept messaging them throughout the writing of this chapter. We managed to depict the entire series through the cards, without repeating a single one. I also like inanimate objects speaking to characters through non-euclidian means. I made it so you don't need to have a guide to the tarot out while reading this but if you do you can pinpoint things a little more.


	10. Domestic Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antauri is having trouble adjusting to a more domestic lifestyle, and to the team's adjustments for him.

A loud _crash_ brings me out of the book I was reading. Across the command center, Otto lays haphazardly in a pile of broken parts. He lays there, dazed, for a few seconds. There are no obvious injuries, so I wait for him to check himself.

“Hey Antauri.”

“Hi Otto, are you doing alright?” I ask, trying to mirror his nonchalance. He sits up and picks a couple of stray bolts from his fur.

“I’m fine, but the vent sure isn’t” He gestures to the hole in the ceiling he fell out of. A natural way for a monkey to break something. The amount of damage was impressive. “It wasn't properly reinforced, at least, not by me. I was hoping it would lead to a maintenance panel for the data screen, but now _both_ of them are broken.” Otto groans. Mandarin is probably going to shout at him if he sees this mess before Otto cleans it up. 

As if summoned, Mandarin appears in the doorway. Otto’s fur puffs up in an involuntary fear response. “What’s going on here? I heard a crash.”

“I- uh!” Otto stands up, ready to salute or do something to lessen the lecture but...

“Are you okay?” Says... Mandarin, surprisingly. If we were older varieties of cyborgs, you could probably see the gears turning in Otto’s head.

“What?”

“I said, are you okay?”

“I..” he takes a glance at me, I shrug, Otto continues to be confused, “I’m… fine?”

“You seem dangerously unfocused, I’m asking a simple question. Go to Gibson to see if you have a concussion.” He gives Otto a light shove in the direction of Gibson’s lab. Otto obeys, too confused to argue. 

“That was very kind of you, Mandarin.”

“What was?”

“Tending to your teammate before the unfinished task.”

“It was a normal thing to worry about.”

“Alright,” I say, dropping the subject. 

Business as usual continues, minus a Mandarin Lecture. Not an _impossible_ occurrence for him, but odd. Perhaps he didn’t want to say anything in front of me.

I head to the med bay both to check on Otto and to see if Gibson can answer a couple of questions, though instead of Gibson quietly working or telling Otto he’s fine, I stumble into the end of a seemingly heated conversation.

“-and I swear he sent me to you!”

“I’m still inclined to believe you have a concussion.” 

“You can open up my head if my eyes weren't enough of an indicator,”

“It was an expression, Otto. I’m saying what you’re saying is unbelievable.”

“I’m telling the truth! He was concerned for my health and comfort.” 

“Please, you aren’t even visibly injured. He didn’t even bat an eye at you after he first came back from Veran training, and you were obviously a wreck fro-” 

Otto interrupts Gibson, the first to notice that I’m there, and points at me.

“Antauri’s a witness!”

I’m not sure how to respond to that.

“He is? Oh!” Gibson somehow hadn’t noticed my presence until now. “Hello, Antauri,”

“Hello Gibson, Otto.”

“Did Mandarin-”

“Put Otto before his short term frustration with an unfinished task? Yes.” I say, bluntly. “I found it to be a step in a very kind direction.”

“I really hate that I find it _really_ suspicious,” says Otto, “I mean, I know I should respect him, but I finally figured out that I _fear_ him sometimes.”

“Fear him?” and I thought I was being paranoid when I sensed it from the team myself. Hearing it aloud confirms a suspicion I had hoped wasn’t true.

“Logic would dictate that one going against their nature in a way that benefits others is because they _want_ something,” Gibson theorizes. I see him glance from the floor to me, then to my midsection. Suddenly I’m intensely self-conscious. 

“Maybe he’s excited for the twins?” Otto suggests, clearly speaking Gibson’s mind.

I try to suggest something that doesn’t sound conniving, “Perhaps he simply wants you to trust him more,”

“Mandarin? Admitting fault and trying to improve himself instead of expecting everyone around him to adapt?,” Gibson gives a mock laugh, “This could be a fluke?”

“Well, I _hope_ he’s changing for the softer,” Otto says, though I can’t help but interpret it as an assurance that he doesn’t hate my… uh... what are we? Can I consider Mandarin my husband? Boyfriend? I’ll have to ask him about our relationship status later.

“I do as well.”

After getting cleared by Gibson, I head to the training room. I had assumed that I would love the downtime, with how low my energy has been, but even only three days since my last mission, I’m hopelessly restless. I’m not allowed high-effort training, nor am I feeling up to it, but I can still do yoga. I may only be going there to grab a yoga mat, but there’s also usually some very exciting activity worth watching going on in the training room if Nova happened to already be there.

By the sound of electric zaps, explosions, and the floor shaking, it seems that I’m in for a show. I forego the automatic door for opening it slower, in case something flaming or electric decided the best place to go was me. It occurs to me that our training room is _incredibly_ dangerous. Otto has proposed a machine type of trainer, like a simulated enemy, but the implementation has been slow. As Otto put it, “Programming’s a bitch,” 

Most training is _supposed_ to be localized to an arena, but nearly every day sparring seems to get out of hand to a dangerous degree. Well, it’s what we’ve come to expect at this point. An expectation that is surprisingly subverted today. Moreover, it was subverted _by Mandarin_.

“Monkeys! Hold for a moment!” He shouts over the racket. Sparx and Nova immediately stop their sparring session. Or, well, stop best they can. Nova tumbles into the wall. 

“Sup, Antuari!” She says, upside-down.

“Good afternoon, I’m only here to retrieve my yoga mat. Don’t mind me”

Mandarin shakes his head, “Oh we must, we don’t want you to get caught in our crossfire, now would we?”

I don’t respond. He sounds too smug to mean what he’s saying, and the fact that I cannot discern what he means is upsetting. What I can discern is that my reaction is disproportionate to my usual

“Here. let me get-”

“No, no. I’m fine.” I interrupt, taking the time to sustain eye contact with Mandarin as I open the storage compartment and levitate my mat out. “It is a simple task.”

“Very well, see you at dinner?” He says, with a genuine smile. My irritation melts away immediately, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Of course. Those two seem to have been enjoying training.”

“I’m taking a new approach, I can’t say anything for its effectiveness yet, but they like it,” He looks over at the duo, chattering and giggling. They both give us a thumbs up as if to prove his point.

“I hope you’re having fun as well, dear.”

“Dear?” Mandarin squeaks. For all his bravado, he gets flustered at a pet name. That’s remarkably adorable.

“Of course. Goodbye.” I know I shouldn’t embarrass him in front of the team but… I can’t help but give him a quick kiss before I leave.

I don’t stick around to see his reaction, but I do look forward to eavesdropping on Sparx’s dramatized retelling later.

Practicing yoga in my room was lonely, to say the least. With the changes in attitude my team has had towards me, I’m beginning to think that’s a good thing. Of course, I seem to have my own change in attitude. I suppose that mood swings are taking effect. They may have been happening throughout my entire pregnancy, but only just now is it becoming too intense for all my training, causing me to be needlessly annoyed at my team. Not annoyed, but ridiculously embarrassed if they acknowledge the obvious in both status quo and appearance. Is there shame associated with this? Perhaps some residual fear from when this was a horrible secret. 

I could look at this optimistically and congratulate myself for controlling myself until the estimated halfway point… or pessimistically, and ask “how do you know this is the halfway point?”

Actually, that’s more of an “attempting to scare myself” point of view.

I hold my foot and stretch my hip as far as I can. Of course it is not as far as I would normally go, but I try my best not to compare myself with myself. I am doing this to feel good, not to show off. I switch sides and stretch my other hip.

Training is (usually) enjoyable because it is a communal activity, and some base instinct in my monkey brain shouts in joy if I even so much as see another monkey. The universal struggle between instinct and logic is back, except in a startling turn of events, it’s instinct versus instinct. I want to hide in a cave for 1000 years and also hug the nearest monkey until their spine cracks. Such complicated but _specific_ feelings. That is why I’m doing yoga alone in my room in the first place. Well, partially it’s because I _can’t_ do the same training activities as everybody else. I sigh, realizing that this ‘training’ is going to go nowhere besides spiraling thoughts.

While I’m hiding in this ‘cave’, I might as well get some introspection out of the way. My room has a full-length mirror, usually hidden away unless I need to gauge my form and can’t use my shadow. I slide it out from behind my bookshelf, and get a good look at my body.

…

…

I don’t look bad. At all. From my reactions to the team’s glances at my midsection, I was expecting to be disgusted by my form. But I’m not. I look pretty attractive, by my standards. I’ve always thought that I looked good. Mandarin has said that considering myself an attractive monkey is a slippery slope to narcissism, but judging by the fact I’m even in this situation, _he agrees with me_. 

There’s a common expression in fur-covered species used as an excuse for looking fat, “I’m not fat, I’m just fluffy!” The human equivalent being “I’m just big boned!”

A quick inspection of the length of my fur tells me that I’m less squish and _actually_ fluffy, very fluffy. Gibson told me earlier that this is a side-effect of progesterone. In that same conversation he went on an entire tangent about the different hormones I’m producing and what each one does, but if I were to be completely honest, I tuned out of it as soon as he said a scientific name I couldn’t pronounce. When he noticed I wasn’t paying attention, he went on _another_ tangent about how pregnancy affects attention span and memory, and all the specifics of why completely missing the irony in that _I wasn’t paying attention at all._ Sorry, Gibson.

I smooth out my fur and try to gauge my feelings on the actual changes to my body shape, but there’s nothing that makes me immediately want to hide. Not even my midsection, though the change is still not as dramatic as it could be in later months...

Have I been saying midsection this entire time? 'Stomach' would be inaccurate, and saying ‘belly’ makes me deeply uncomfortable… for some reason…

Is that the source of my mortification? _The terminology_?

It’s not out of the ordinary for words to make me uncomfortable, the grand majority of swear words being among those.

I decide to test the waters, making eye contact with my reflection, “Mother. I will be a mother.”

Yuck.

“I will be a father.”

That doesn’t work either, but it fits better than ‘mother’.

“I will be a… parent?”

A term that doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all. It appears my discomfort comes from gender in this particular instance. I have faint memories of being incredibly young, even before my Veran training, and hissing at Nova when she called me ‘sister’. 

So I care more about gender than I thought I did. All three of the terms I tested are incredibly formal, and while I’m fine using them…

What would my children call me? What would they call Mandarin? Would they both agree on the same names for us, or would they each come up with something different? Of course, what they’d end up calling us for life is going to be a combination of what we coax them to say during their first babbles of language and their own personal preference. 

I know Mandarin would be _all over_ being called every variation of “Father” one can think of, but I have no idea what I’d want them to call me. Perhaps I should find a term from another dialect of simian that’s free of the implications behind “ma-ma” or “da-da”. Or even create my own, language being simply an extension of the culture it was built for, just as malleable as clay.

Or I could leave it up to them. I suppose I left their survival up to them up until just over a month ago, so that would be fitting.

I can’t muse for much longer. My back hurts.

Good as time as any to get myself some tea. I put the mirror back into storage, but leave my yoga mat on the floor.

As I approach the kitchen, I can hear the chatter of Sparx telling a story to Gibson, who is interrupting him every three words.

“-and he was actually being _nice_ today! He didn’t scold Antauri for PDA”

“PDA? Please define your acronyms.”

“Public displays of affection, Gibson,” Sparx says as I enter, and I’m lucky enough to catch the tail end of a possibly legendary eye-roll. “Oh, hey Antauri. We left some water in the kettle for ya.”

“Thank you,” I sit at the table, levitating the tea, the water, the cup--etcetera-- together. I really can’t be bothered to stand. “Did your training go well?”

“I’m wondering who was wearing Mandarin’s skin instead of Mandarin.”

“I take that to mean it went well.”

“Yep!”

I take a sip of tea. It should be steeped for longer, but oh well.

“How is yoga treating you?” Gibson asks.

“I prefer training with the team. Perhaps I should watch the team’s training sessions from now on.” I shrug, “Though, unless I take up the elusive sport of _Gentle Cheerleading_ I will just be sitting there.”

Gibson gives me a solid nose exhale. Sparx giggles. 

“Mandarin was trying out that sport today. He stumbled over ‘compliments’ until he figured out the job could be done with a thumbs up and a smile.”

I smile, “He’s been so sweet recently,”

“It’s not even just to you, we’d understand if it was that. I got to sleep in for ten entire minutes today!”

“I got to say in my lab nearly ten minutes later yesterday” Gibson chimes in, “Those ten minutes were the most productive unstructured lab time I’ve ever had in my life.”

“I’m just happy he didn’t chew out Otto or Nova today.” Sparx says “Those two never deserve it when it happens, but get away with everything I can’t.”

“You sound like you’re enjoying Mandarin’s new attitude, Sparx,” I say

“Enjoying it? I’m living in paradise! Man, Antauri, you really should’ve gotten knocked up sooner!”

My posture stiffens. Leave it to Sparx to find a term that ignites such a deep discomfort in me that I immediately feel like vomiting. I very calmly lay my face onto the table in a moment of absolute embarrassment. I can _not_ make eye contact right now.

“Uh, Antauri?”

“I would advise against repeating that term for my condition, Sparx,” I say, all hints of malice dripping from my voice muffled by both the table and my logic telling me that I’m being very dramatic right now. 

“Right. Yes, sir. Sorry. Won’t happen again.” He shuffles away from me.

“Antauri, are you alright?” Gibson asks.

“I have never been more embarrassed in my entire life. My world is falling to pieces,” I say monotonously. “During yoga I had an entire mini-crisis about the terminology surrounding pregnancy, and I’ve just now figured out that I preferred it when this was a terrible secret.”

No response. I keep talking into the table.

“I could’ve pretended that everything was normal and anyone else who knew would’ve had to pretend that as well. Seeing as everyone is treating me more gently as of late, the status quo is shattered and Mandarin will fumble his way into making me feel weak in doing so.”

“Hold up, you _liked_ his mega strict training and his general assholery?”

“He challenged me. It was comfortable.” I say, sitting up. Then, quietly, “I think I’m having a terrible mood swing.”

I can see Sparx mutter “ya think?” under his breath before getting elbowed in the ribs by Gibson.

“That’s perfectly normal, Antauri. I’m glad you’re venting instead of trying to repress it”

“I think he’s still repressing it a lot. I could hear bloodlust in his voice.” Sparx says. I give him an incredibly tired look. “Uh, yeah. Venting is a good thing. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you vent before, like, not even complaining,”

“I hadn’t vented to anyone since my Veran training until my pregnancy.” I take a sip of tea. “Otto was an amazing listener back when I was two months along and absolutely sure I was going to experience a miscarriage at any time.”

Sparx and Gibson share a look.

“I’m feeling better now.”

“The mood swings are a very good sign your hormones are where they should be, even if they’re uncomfortable.”

“Thank you, Gibson.”

“Antauri, I may not be a doctor,” Sparx starts, “but my ‘extensive research’ says you should take a nap.”

“That’s likely for the best, you’re putting a lot of strain on yourself just by existing at this point.”

“I do not need reminding,”

“Antauri, may I quote you for a moment? At least, I’m pretty sure you said something like this.” Gibson asks.

“Of course.”

“Remember to treat your reactions as gently as you need to be treating your body. As you once said,” He raises one finger as if he were reciting a mathematical equation, “‘one’s body and mind need to be in balance to function’ and we need everything we can get in this situation.”

My knowledge and advice being parroted back at me is much more comforting than I was expecting. I really should listen to myself more often.

“Thank you, Gibson. I’ll see you both at dinner.”

“Oh! That reminds me. Come to the med bay this evening. We need to discuss...” he clears his throat, “Plans. Otto has been drafting plans to modify a healing tube for smaller subjects, just in case. Completely unprompted, I may add”

“I will,” I finish my tea, and put the mug in the sink. Everything we’ve been discussing has been entirely domestic, but I can’t help but feel as if I’m preparing for battle. I suppose you could call this entire situation my toughest battle yet.

Well, the worst battles are made easier by having teammates who are willing to help. I have plenty of teammates to go around. While Gibson’s estimation, health-wise, is far from great, it is several magnitudes better than I was expecting when I first found out. I suppose I have the team to thank for that. Or random chance and self-care, but I prefer thinking of it as the team helping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite thing is that both of my favorite readers of this fic immediately noticed and posted about my "hey Ron" "hey billy" reference at the beginning.


	11. A Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xan speaks to Antauri about recent events as he understands it.

Taking a nap might’ve been a mistake.

The nature of _ dreams _ are different for each person, as they are a culmination of each person’s desires and fears, all that they know. It is also a product of whatever their body is feeling at the time. During my training with the Veran Mystics, I taught myself how to lucid dream. It wasn’t part of my training, but the stress had caused frequent enough nightmares that my performance was suffering. I got a metaphorical gold star from the Verans when they figured out what I was doing.

I must say that I’m disappointed in what my subconscious has come up with. The gore caught me off guard, but the second I realized I was dreaming it became painfully boring.

Oh yes, a metaphor for the connection and responsibility of parenthood through a bloody depiction of a partially completed cesarean. Following umbilical cords through an endless hallway. Blood blood blood. This didn’t bring up any fears I don’t already know about.

I stop my dream in its tracks. With a wave of my hand, the walls around me collapse, disappearing into the void. A little easier to breathe. I’m about to clean up the temporary form the dream has given me when I feel a presence behind me. Or perhaps, all around me. 

Master Xan is much more expansive on the unconscious plane than the three-dimensional plane.

“Greetings, Master. What an unexpected visit,” I say, turning to face him. The Veran Mystics chose not to use technology to contact previous students once they have left the temple, instead projecting themselves into dreams. 

“Ah, I apologize, did I catch you in the middle of something?”

“Oh, no. I’m simply cleaning up after a nightmare.” I quickly ‘zip’ my torso up, brushing any debris into the void around us.

“Things have been stressful, have they?”

“Yes, very. Changes are happening far too fast for me. Would you like to chat?”

“Of course, dear friend.”

I transform the featureless void around us to resemble a room with nothing but a table, a teapot, and two cups. I enjoy the sheer control that lucid dreams give me, but I never found it to be enjoyable beyond allowing me to escape from nightmares. Back during training, I attempted to share my technique for chasing away nightmares, only for him to then tell me the next week he was using it to play out fantasies while asleep. Allowing for civil conversation with high mystics was a bonus as well, even if it was pretty one-sided in who can contact whom.

Xan takes a sip of non-existent tea. The physics in dreams allows him to eat through his mask, and enjoy worldly experiences so long as the dreamer enjoyed them as well. He always enjoyed my experience with tea, as I always referred to it as ‘sensory bliss’. It truly was my biggest vice.

“How have you been handling everything?” He asks. He has the ability to read my current state from my subconscious but found it polite to ask instead.

“Simultaneously better and worse than I thought I would when this started. I had two breakdowns this week, one less than an hour ago, but with the team’s support, I feel prepared.”

“That’s very impressive, how is the new team dynamic treating you?”

“I’m not enjoying it, but I suppose it is for the best. I may be paranoid-”

“Being paranoid is a natural result of an event such as this, say your feelings to their fullest.” I could hear a smile in his voice, one of the most reassuring feelings in the world. Perhaps my fears are for naught.

“I fear the team may have lost respect for me, or sees me as weak. They have been walking on eggshells around me. I do not blame them, my actions were irrational, and I  _ am _ in a weakened state… they’re trying their best to help, though.”

“Your team cares about you an inordinate amount, Antauri”

“Is there any specific reason for your visit? I know I may have accidentally sent an emotional signal out earlier.”

“Ah, your signal surely startled us all, but I was not expecting anything less from you.”

“You were expecting this to happen?”

“Yes, it was foretold.”

“That makes me feel a lot of relief that my decisions were correct.” I allow that feeling to seep into my surroundings, the walls curving slightly, tension releasing.

“I hope you can forgive me for not telling you, as it may have changed the outcome, there were many specific possibilities. You are aware of how complicated Mandarin likes to make things.” Xan took a long sip of tea, now ‘flavored’ better due to my state of mind.

“Oh of course. He’s been fussing over all the different aspect of our incoming arrivals even more than I have,”

Xan makes a noise akin to choking. He drops the teacup.

“I’m sorry, I never said. We’re having twins,” I say in my best approximation of cheer. 

“You’re  **_with child_ ** ?” The lights in his mask shrink to pinpricks.

“I’m beginning to think that there has been a misunderstanding about what our conversation is about.”

I can feel the power primate tighten around me for a brief moment, the effect of Xan  _ directly _ searching for information in my psyche. Clearly all notion of civility has evaporated.

The exact moment his reach goes from me to my nearby children, I push him away.

He drops the teacup, it falls through the table, and into the void below.

“You’re  _ keeping them?” _ While I would normally be offended at such a notion so late, Xan looks almost like a cornered animal. I’d never seen  _ fear _ from a Veran before.

“Explain, what is happening? This isn’t in the prophecy, I assume.”

Xan begins what I can only describe as a controlled panic. Each word comes out slow, almost calculated. It becomes clear that he is suddenly without a script.

“Foretold? Their existence… It wasn’t even supposed to be possible. Another piece in a puzzle... can change the very shape we are constructing. I spent my entire life making sure we had every single piece accounted for in a what was supposed to be a  _ square” _

I can only watch as he has the first emotional outburst he’s had in millenia. I’ve been shouted at by a mystic before, and been witness to many a lecture for Mandarin…. But behind every instance of shouting or scolding was a sense of ‘I know you are trying your best, but I know what’s best for you, and this is the best way for me to show that’ because they actually  _ did _ know what was best.

“You were always destined to be difficult to predict, but this is ridiculous.”

Now I was bearing witness to the grandest of high-mystics, the closest thing to the benevolent hand of the universe as one can get,  _ dumbfounded _ at my actions. He finally turns back to face me.

“What are the chances that you would send them away? Or that they might not sur-”

Despite his state, I still respect him a great deal, both for his power and the influence he had over my life and upbringing. He became the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father figure. Which is why it pains me so much to do what I’m about to do.

Defy Xan.

“I am not having that argument. I’ve already made my decision about how they will be raised.”

I had not made that decision before I spoke the sentence, but the fear I’m feeling compels me to keep my children close. It’s like the reality of all the threats of the universe are crashing down on me at once. 

Xan visibly deflates at my defiance. 

“I apologize for suggesting such a thing, I- for the first time in eons, I don’t know what to do.”

I stay silent.

“I will return to my brothers, and discuss the changes. Please keep yourself safe. I will provide the best guidance I can, if the original prophecy is still intact.”

“Dare I ask,” I begin, “what parts of the prophecy can you tell me? If it all ends up being for naught, I would at least like to know what was  _ supposed _ to happen.”

“And what is happening to the version of you who isn’t in this situation.”

“You believed you were speaking to me about a foretold event. What was it?”

“It still could happen, your children’s existence may have simply postponed it.”

“A hint?” My curiosity knows no bounds. This is an opportunity nobody has had in eons.

“I cannot. You have already learned more than I am comfortable with through the conversation alone.”

“Then I will not continue pressing that matter... Things have been stressful, have they?”

“Are you enjoying this? Are you enjoying me acting like a fish in the desert?”

“I’m giving in to the  _ despicable  _ urge to relate to another person.”

“I am not a person, Antauri. Not meant to be relatable.”

“Yet you present yourself to me as my friend. You  _ know _ how most see you.”

He sighs, resting his hand over his mask like he was covering his already covered face.

“I hope you can find relatability elsewhere. Goodbye.”

I begin to wake up. 

Hmm.

I am not panicking.

I look for the nearest clock, and a perfect half-hour has passed, clearly courtesy of Xan. Good to know he still has my best interests in mind. What am I thinking? He’ll always be on my side. He may prefer to be hands-off, but he’d never hurt me.

I have a doctor’s appointment to get to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A plot bunny enters my home and burns my crops. This started out as a joke. NONE of this was in my outline. I had a whole thing lined up where I skipped the nap, maybe even dinner too, and started info-dumping about all the possible complications that come with a twin pregnancy but NOOOOOOOOOOOOO Xan had to ruin everything. Nova was in it.   
> Now you all will have to wait for ch 12 to see al that because I am incapable of pruning this fic down.
> 
> If you want me to put something in this fic, go ahead and leave a comment. If it doesn't conflict with the logic or plans I already have you might just get a whole chapter dedicated to you. I'm enjoying writing this to the fullest degree!


	12. A Glimpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dinner and a movie. ir, well, ultrasound viewing.

Being the second time I’ll be in the med bay this week, I suppose I should be getting more comfortable with the idea. Of course, I’ve very clearly shown that I don’t adhere to what should happen.

So I nervously eat dinner with the rest of the team. Notably, Gibson is reading.

“Gibson, no books at the table.” Mandarin scolds noncommittally. It’s not a very harsh offence.

“It’s not a book, it’s a medical text. I’m studying.” 

“Ah, of course. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you study before, mostly experiment,”

“Well, my medical training was completed around the same time as your training with the Verans.”

Sparx joins in, “Yeah, Otto and I saw plenty of this. He’s in cram mode right now.”

“I’m studying as if I need to perform surgery  _ tomorrow _ . I was unprepared  _ once _ and will never do it again.”

Otto takes a long sip of water.

“Gibson, you had exactly one point below passing on that test.” Sparx says.

“Which was 30 points below my standard!”

“Perfect is a good thing to strive for, but you must not be hard on yourself for not living up to your expectation.” I interject.

“I know that,” He huffs, “Which is why I allow myself two points of leeway.”

“Everything  _ did _ work out, right? No mishaps that you couldn’t fix?” Mandarin asks.

There's a moment of silence before Sparx rolls his eyes, “The biggest panic we had was a papercut on a metal finger,” He elbows Otto, “still have no idea how you did that, buddy.”

Otto laughs into his water.

“Honestly, I’m glad I missed out on you three’s training,” It's Nova's turn to roll her eyes, “Gibson is neurotic  _ enough _ when a bug gets into the robot.”

“You will find that my attitude is absolutely necessary!”

“He wasn’t so bad. I just like making fun of him because he squawks like a bird every time I jab at him. It’s adorable” Sparx says with a smile. Gibson seems visibly strained by holding back the exact annoyed huff Sparx had described. Nova giggles.

“No flirting at the table, either.” Mandarin says with a smirk. Sparx almost chokes.

“I wasn’t- he’s not!”

I can’t help but giggle. Gibson and Sparx scoot away from each other.

I get a marvelous idea.

"Don't embarrass them, dear" I say, stressing the final word. Mandarin freezes like he could short circuit.

"Are you poking at each other or are you eating?" Nova says. She's already cleaned her plate. 

"Do you got somewhere more fun to be, Nova?" Sparx asks.

"She's going to be helping me run tests later, actually." Gibson says.

This surprises me. "Really? I assumed Otto would be helping."

"I'll be there if something breaks." Otto shrugs, "I got my own project to work on."

"He's at the blueprint stage for a pair of neonatal intensive care tubes. Just in case."

"Like our current healing tube?" I ask.

"Yeah!" Otto says. "But smaller. Baby sized. Baby tubes. Baby."

"At our appointment today we're likely going to try to give Otto a time frame on completion. That's all estimation, though."

"Wonderful." I say, but at this point I'm thinking about birth. It's making me nervous. 

Mandarin makes eye contact with me. I give him a smile, but I know he can read me better than that.

He finds my tail with his, and we twist our tails together. At the dinner table. How scandalous. I feel like a young trainee trying to sneak a last-minute snippet of affection to Mandarin before training with the Verans. What rascals we used to be. He makes me feel better, despite the anxiety. 

A twitch reminds me of  _ what _ exactly I am worried about. Er… who I'm worried about. The two of them had been stirring throughout dinner, but I hadn't even thought to take note of it, they were so slow. One twitch to remind me that they're there. 

I suddenly realize I've tuned out of the conversation.

"No, but I'm telling you, if we were birds, we wouldn't be having this problem." Sparx says. Apparently I either missed a lot, or missed nothing important. 

\---  
  


The medbay has always been Gibson’s territory. This is most apparent when I tense up the second I enter, and at the same time, Gibson relaxes. I have barely a second to sit on the table when I’m already being poked and attached to three different machines, Gibson explaining every step. The thing keeping me most grounded at the moment is Mandarin, whom I dearly wish was with me during the  _ first _ trip to the med bay.

"Our bodies keep track of our vitals automatically, which saves us a lot of time. Our most important vital at the moment is blood pressure, but logging all of them is important."

"Got it." Nova says.

"What Antauri's cybernetics aren't tracking is the twins. That's what this is for." Gibson holds up the same device used to monitor the twins last week, except this time, it has some clear signs of Ottofication. A strap for convenience and something beneath the casing. Gibson hands it to Nova. “It works roughly the same as last time. Just wireless now, according to Otto. I won’t patronize you by explaining how it works.”

A few seconds of nothing but technical beeps and clicks, then Gibson starts writing. Nova looks at the monitor near us, then turns it towards Mandarin and me. 

"You can really tell that it's two little monkeys in there, huh?”

I had seen this particular sight once before, but at the time I was spiraling into a panic attack over the notion of having two monkeys. Mandarin, however, hasn’t even seen an ultrasound image at all. My attention is split between the “oh-so-serious” monkey I love to bits looking like he is gazing upon the creation of a universe and the moving image he's staring at. Though, that  _ is  _ true if you take it as a metaphor. 

The twins’ poses invoke memories of my studies with the Verans, as do most things I try to find meaning in, more specifically the period of time we focused on learning about the religions and cultures of other worlds. The many stories of a sun and a moon chasing each other, creating day and night. The symbol for balance, of Yin and Yang. 

Of course, all of this is coincidence. 

One twin seems to stretch out, I can  _ feel _ it as well as see it. Mandarin is covering his mouth to prevent himself from squeaking. The other's tail curls into a little spiral. 

The relative peace is shattered by the worst sound imaginable when you're in the med bay on the robot.

"Hm." Gibson says. Or muses. 

The three of us look to him, staring concerned at the projection of the twins. 

"Gibson, you're going to give one of the boys a heart attack if you don't explain what you're humming at." Nova tries to make the situation a little less nervewracking. 

"Well," Gibson starts, "I'll preface this by clarifying that this issue is not incredibly serious. Just an extra detail to look out for."

Mandarin and I visibly relax.

"It's a case of what is known as twin-twin transfusion. very common. In short, one twin is taking more resources from the placenta than the other. "

"They're the bigger one, right?" Mandarin asks. I hadn't noticed a size difference until now.

"Correct. It's not to a threatening extent at the moment. The smaller twin will be our biggest worry in the coming weeks, though. They'll have a developmentally difficult time, but from what I can see, we have nothing to worry about so long as they wait another month or two."

"Wonderful." I say.

Nova turns off the vitals screen. "We're done for the academic and important part of this, but you two can stare at them for as long as you want. Or until you pass out. Whichever comes first."

Mandarin looks at me. I know for a fact that he would stare at the twins until his brain forcibly shuts down due to exhaustion. I, personally, am ready to fall asleep on the table.

"Five more minutes. Then we go to bed."

"Can I convince you to go up to ten?"

"Five. We can snuggle tonight if that makes up for it."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Nova clearly expressing delight at our interaction. By expressing delight, I mean she looks like she was choking herself on pent up "aww"s.

"I suppose." Mandarin finally agrees. 

The twins kick once more, the smaller one joining their sibling. I have nothing to worry about, anymore. 

Except for maybe disrupting an entire prophecy. That'll be fine, I'm sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait. I was playing minecraft. for months at a time. Hoping I'll be more regular but honestly who am I kidding I'll do this when I want


	13. Braxton Hicks is a Weird Name

A little over a month after we first saw them on the ultrasound, the discomfort from earlier months is back in full force. This time it is  _ classic _ physical discomfort, not the mind games I was playing with myself for four months without break. I was initially annoyed at my inability to go on missions, but I probably couldn't even pilot my jetpack at the moment. I wasn't sleeping well, and worst of all, I can't snuggle with Mandarin. Of course, I am aware of how insignificant these struggles are, both twins are healthy and there is nothing to worry about. We’ve finally hit the third trimester. The final stretch. Not much can go wrong at this point, and the things that can go wrong, go so catastrophically wrong that I call myself an idiot for thinking about it. 

But that doesn't stop me from using it as an excuse to eat ice cream. I’ve long since given up on a vegan diet, and Mandarin indulges me.

Mandarin’s indulgences is also how I'm getting away with eating cake for breakfast at nine in the morning. Everyone has long since left on morning patrols. While the fist rockets are disengaged for sky-based surveillance, the three tank-driving monkeys have switched to using buggies that Otto built in his free time. This affords me the luxury of a few more hours of rest, and so that I don’t need to fly the brain scrambler unless  _ entirely _ necessary. 

But we haven’t had an enemy bigger than what one or two monkeys could handle. Just more formless. Some of them don’t even attack. We still do the patrols as usual, but the sheer lack of activity is concerning. It should be expected, as we’ve defeated every monster that’s been registered, and every registered “super” villain has either started a new life on Ranger 7, or been spotted on other planets.

By all accounts, we should be celebrating. Winding down for a different part of our lives, and figuring out what relative peace is… If I may explain my anxiety using a metaphor...

As an island city, all citizens of Shuggazoom are taught to recognize signs of a tsunami. You must watch the waves if the water recedes for a long period of time… Run. Run as far as you possibly can.

Our problem is that  _ we  _ are the tsunami defense. We can't run or else people will be hurt. Possibly killed.

I'm not going to be in a condition to battle even  _ after _ the twins are born. Gibson said that if I carry them to term, a C-section would be our only option for delivery. Which means he's going to be a few inches shy of  _ cutting me in half.  _ That's an exaggeration, but recovery would be very long. A terrifying sentence on the surface, but ultimately better than breaking my hips. 

Everyone has been anxious and has been expressing it differently. Mandarin is quieter and unpredictable, Sparx is cracking more jokes, Gibson and Nova have been honing their skills nonstop, both in medicine and battle. And Otto? Well, Otto seems fine, but at this point, we all know he's better at hiding feelings than even  _ I _ am. I would talk to him, but I'm not sure my brand of emotional support would help him. Or that I can actually be emotional support now since it seems that nearly everything makes me burst into tears. 

I hope the term "bundle of joy" holds true. We really need a morale boost.

The walls of the robot resound with whirring and squeaks, quiet, but still enough to note. The sound of the robot adjusting to one of the first rockets returning. A sound I’ve only learned recently, as I’m usually one to take longer on patrols. Sparx enters the kitchen and immediately pours himself a cup of coffee. He takes a long sip that is most  _ definitely _ cold and looks at my half-eaten slice of cake. 

“Nice.”

“I assume you won’t tell Gibson?” I say, a little embarrassed.

“As long as you don’t tell him about my caffeine addiction,” He takes another sip, “Though at this point he probably has one too.”

“I’ll be sure to apologize to him for that later.”

Sparx laughs a little. “We should apologize to Otto, he’s been the one keeping Gibson in check.”

“You don’t help him with that?”

“I do, but Otto’s working a little closer to him at the moment.”He stops to sip, “Also we have different styles of making him calm down, and making jokes only riles him up right now.”

“He understands your intentions, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. I understand his reasons for overworking but… he’s gonna pass out on the operating table if he keeps it up. Anyway. How was your morning?"

"I have many things I could complain about, but the sugar intake is definitely improving my mood."

"Your back hurt?"

"Of course." I lean back in my chair. "I may be able to float, but it doesn’t help with the weight of two other monkeys.”

“If you don’t want to wait for your boyfriend to rub your back, I think Otto might still have some invention to help with that. He let me use it when I screwed up my jetpack and ran into a wall.”

“Really?”

“If he doesn’t I’m sure he’d make one on the spot to help you.”

“No, you  _ really _ hit a wall at jetpack-powered speeds?”

Sparx laughs, “Ask Gibson about it. He’s the one who un-accordioned my spine.”

I forget that it’s really nice to talk to Sparx, he knows how to keep a conversation calm and on track. 

“Want me to take your plate?”

“Thank you, but it’s a five-foot walk to the sink.” I levitate my plate and fork, “I don’t even need to stand up.”

I’ve been taking my telekinesis for granted because it’s one of the little things that make my life easier and I might as well use it. 

My utensils are over the sink when my concentration is  _ shattered _ by my stomach suddenly getting  _ very _ tight. Tight enough that it hurts. Everything clatters into the sink. Is this happening  _ now?  _ It might not. It might be… forgot the name of it.

“Tauri, you alright?” Sparx sets down his coffee and stands near the table. He seems ready for the worst. Unlike me. 

“I…uh.” I’m too tense to really think. “Tight. But… could... Uh.”

“You think it might be Braxton Hicks and not real labor?”

I nod. How on Shuggazoom did he know that off the top of his head?

“I know we’ve got a device that can tell you for sure. Can you walk?”

I nod again. He offers a hand to help me up and doesn’t let go until we’re in the med bay. The tightness is letting up by now, but he still hands the aforementioned device to me and connects it to a tube in my cybernetics. It reads a steady 4.57 and was dropping.

“I have no idea what units it measures, or if it’s prolactin or oxytocin it’s measuring, but I know that Gibson has it set up that if it’s over a _nine_ we need to worry.”

That calms my nerves  _ greatly _ . I’ve even calmed down enough to speak. 

“What you just did is magic, Sparx.”

“Calming you down? Please, it was the least I could do. Well, it was the only thing I could do.”

I’m not sure what to say to that, so I change the subject. “What is this device?”

“I don’t know the name for it, but it measures hormones and chemicals. I’ll make sure you know where it’s at in case this happens again.” He unplugs the device from my arm, making sure I can see how to do it. How mindful. “I noticed you got a little quiet back there.”

“I suppose I did. Does that happen to you?”

“No, but it happens to Otto a  _ lot _ . You’ve probably seen it, he goes entirely nonverbal when he’s got too many feelings. Positive or negative. I’ve gotten pretty good at communicating with someone who can’t do much other than gesture.”

“I have seen that. He couldn’t speak after he felt one of the twins kick for the first time…. Technically the first besides me.”

“Before  _ Mandarin _ ?”

We’re interrupted by the robot’s walls creaking, marking the arrival of Gibson. It’s followed by a few different sounds of mechanics activating, marking the arrival of at least one tank-driving monkey. 

All four of the monkeys previously on patrol come up the elevators within seconds of each other. Nova peeks inside the med bay.

“Everything alright in here?” She asks.

“Yes. Simply a false alarm on my end.” I say.

“Awesome. Mandarin is calling a team meeting right now. Come on.” She leaves for the command center.

I look at Sparx. I hadn’t been listening to the comms.

“He mentioned a hunch he had before I got back, but other than that I have no idea what this could be about.”

“Let’s go see, then.”

We join the rest of the team in the command center, Mandarin already projecting a map of Shuggazoom and the surrounding areas on the screen. I sit in my orb chair. Mandarin gives me a smile before proceeding with his meeting.

"We have no enemies to fight, save for monsters that we have dubbed  _ The Formless _ . Previously, we had no idea where these things were coming from." He pulls out a pointer “But I believe I’ve pinpointed the source of these shambling creatures.”

He extends the pointer and points to a place on the map, far away from the city. It appears to be deep in the zone of wasted years, as well.

“Well, not exactly here, but roughly in this area. I went further than usual on patrols and was able to spot one heading from this direction. It aligns with where every other creature has come from.”

Nova speaks up. “Are you planning on dropping in there and stamping out whatever we find?"

Mandarin collapses the pointer and crosses his arms, looking pleased. "In the most basic of terms, yes. Because of some results from analysis, I have reason to believe that these things follow a singular leader, like eusocial insects."

Sparx looks at the team, then back at Mandarin. "Aren't bugs known for getting  _ angry  _ when you mess with their Queen? If you're right, we'd set ourselves up to be in the middle of a swarm."

"That's why I am suggesting we do this  _ now.  _ There doesn't seem to be a lot of formless at this point, but there might be more later. Killing the source will ensure we never have to deal with them again, and we'll be able to have some peace of mind. Whether that's a mad scientist making these things to set them loose, or some oozing bug-mother just don't what creatures do, we can't let it stay."

“When will we,” I begin, and remember I’m not going, “When will you leave?”

“Hopefully before the end of the week. I have a few things I could do to get the location narrowed down more. Three days from now at the latest.”

Everyone seemed on board. Even I was, despite it leaving me alone at the robot for a few hours. My due date wasn’t for another month and a half. This would be one final big mission before we likely have some well deserved time off. Or the big wave hits. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, that was a long wait for an update. I got off track from my outline and had no idea how badly i needed it. Might go through and edit the outline today. Also, I've got a clear vision for ch 14, so it won't take AS long as this chapter. I guess 13 really is an unlucky number.  
> Also, don't look in the comments for chapter 12 unless you want a spoiler.


	14. Breaking a Few Rules (and possibly his water)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team leaves on a mission, leaving Antauri unsupervised for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: the beginning of this chapter was added to the previous chapter, to even things out on future read throughs

Now Friday, the team is ready. Mandarin, surprisingly, is fussing over me the most.

“And you’re sure you’ll be alright?”

“Yes, of course. You are only leaving for a few hours at most.”

“I mean, you’ve been having contractions all week,”

“I’ve had two. Two false ones. It’s normal, dear. Don’t worry about me.” I look to the team, who is waiting for Mandarin. 

“Besides, we’re only a half-hour flight away! If anything goes wrong in that time, we’re basically right there!” Otto says, “and if something goes _catastrophically_ wrong in that time, we probably couldn’t do anything about it if we were right there either!”

Mandarin looks at him, concerned. “That _started out_ optimistic.”

Otto shrugs.

“Mandarin. Go be a hero." I kiss him, partly to keep him quiet, but mostly because I love him. "These two and I have survived four and a half months without any help, a single day is no big deal."

Mandarin hugs me, though it's a little awkward due to the combination of his armor and my bump. "I wish you didn't do those four months alone, but it certainly proves you're capable."

He places his hand on my belly. I feel strangely comforted by the cold, heavy metal of his gauntlet. Though the twins can’t quite feel it, one of them kicks against his palm. He sighs, smiling. 

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to bed. Take it easy” He says. 

“Stay safe. Good luck, team.” I say. All five of them leave in the tubes simultaneously, all heading for one of the fist rockets. Sparx's, probably. The robot's mechanics adjust and whirr, and I am once again alone. By now, not a terrible feeling.

Completely unsupervised, I decide that the best thing to do is break a few rules that nobody else could get away with. 

By that I mean I am eating in bed. While reading. How scandalous.

This is an adventure for me, at this point. I hate how low my standards have dropped in only a few months of inactivity, but it is what it is.

I am able to enjoy a couple of hours unsupervised relaxation, punctuated by the occasional sharp kick from one of the twins. Completely uneventful until an alarm goes off. Not a major threat warning, or even a minor threat, it was a proximity alarm. Usually this is some human fan getting too close to the robot, and they tend to leave on their own. I head to the command center anyway, just to check.

Walking the distance to the elevator tubes was almost uncomfortable enough to convince me to brush off the alarm and lay back down, but the fact that I hadn’t done _anything at all_ today is more than enough reason to continue. As of late, one twin has ended up resting incredibly low, which we’ve found is uncomfortable for both of us. 

Down the elevator into the command center. I access the control panel, and turn on the security cameras to see what’s going on. I expect to maybe see some troublemaking humans trying to climb one of the Foot Cruisers, but instead, there are four, maybe five formless over both Foot Cruisers. They look like they’re _trying_ to enter the robot, but none of them can seem to figure out how. A couple have taken to banging one of their appendages on the nearest bit of metal. It’s certainly something that Otto will be mildly annoyed at later, but nothing to call the team about.

I activate one of the smaller blasters on the robot, and manually shoot two formless in quick succession. It’s strong enough that they both simply burst into inky splatters. I shoot the other pair, then search for any more. To my surprise, it appears in the camera feed less than a foot away from the blaster I’m using. I press the fire button several times, but the formless breaks the blaster before it even registers. Oh dear. Before I can think any further, the formless is oozing inside the new hole it has made where the blaster once was. 

The hull breach alarm goes off.

Okay, that’s a simple fix. We have internal defences for a reason, though they take a little longer to activate due to the fact that we wanted little to no risk of them misidentifying a member of the team. This small delay, though, was enough for the formless to cause some more damage to circuits, keeping the defense in that area from activating. It gives the formless enough time to get much _much_ closer than I want it to be. A panel across the room bursts out of the floor, followed quickly by the oozing formless, and I abandon the controls to get as far away from it as possible. I run into the nearest room with a door, the med bay, and lock it behind me. 

This situation has turned to a point where it’s a good idea to call the team. 

I sit down, and activate my communicator.

“Antauri to Monkey Team, do you read?”

“We read, what’s up, Antauri?” Otto replies. The audio quality is notably worse than usual, but not to where I can’t understand. They must be deep in the Zone of Wasted Years.

“Is everything alright back there?” Nova asks.

“There is a formless inside the robot,” I hear a crash from outside. A quick check with the power primate reveals that the formless is roughly where I was only a minute ago. “I believe it’s just broken the main control panel.”

I hear various noises of monkey-ish concern from the team over the communicator.

“What? How? Where are you?” Mandarin asks.

“I’m in the med bay with the door locked. The formless entered through a blaster port. There were originally five of them.”

“Oh shit!” Otto exclaims. “I had planned on reinforcing those literally next week!”

“I apologize for the interruption, I’m fine, but I don’t exactly have any ranged attacks that wouldn’t exhaust me to use.”

“It’s about the best time for you to call us, actually.” I can almost hear Sparx’s eyes roll, “We’re pretty sure we’re being led to a dead end.” 

“We’re close, I know it!” Mandarin says.

“Is there an alternate way of activating the internal defences, or a safer place I should try to move to?”

“If you have the door properly locked, med bay is about the safest place for you to be for the time being.” Gibson states, “My studies of the creatures dictate that they have no object permanence. It likely doesn’t even know you’re there anymore. Though there is an alternative defense activation with most of our other circuits...”

“That’s good to know. I may just wait here until you get back.”

“Ooh!” Otto nearly cuts out for a second, “I know we might be another couple hours. There’s a few snacks in the vent near the back-right of the room, if you get hungry.”

“What?” Mandairn asks. I expect this of Otto, apparently he didn’t.

“I hide snacks around the robot! Y’know, just in case!”

“You can remember off the top of your head the exact location of a squirrel stash of snacks but you can’t memorize your patrol rotation?””

“Mandarin, you have no idea how much I want to be able to control what I remember and what I do not.”

Mandarin makes a concerned noise, but changes the subject.

“Stay safe, Antauri. Thanks for telling us, instead of trying to handle this situation on your ow-”

He stops abruptly.

“I think we found what we’re looking for! We’ll see you later, Antauri. I love you, bye”

The comms cut out before I can respond. He probably got too excited by being right. 

I’m once again alone, but this time I don’t have free reign over the robot, and I’m technically in danger.

A reasonable monkey in their right mind would stay put, maybe take a nap, but I’m already plotting a route from here to the circuit room. I won’t go through with it, I have two passengers who shouldn’t be anywhere near a formless. They’ve already gotten far too close to one, before I knew there were two of them.

Crossing my legs, I check up a little closer on the twins, using the power primate.

Both are calm. The smaller twin, also the one higher up, has grabbed onto the other’s tail. Illegally cute. It would be wonderful if I could spend the rest of my time just staring at my kids without actually seeing them, but I feel restless after less than three minutes.

Weirdly restless. I’m not particularly hungry, but investigating the vent Otto mentioned would be something to do. Exactly where he said, there’s a vent, one that I can unscrew the covering off with my fingers. The vent is easily big enough for me to crawl through. Just slightly out of arm's reach is what looks to be an indent into the wall, probably where his snacks are kept. I climb inside the vent, and in the indent is a small cardboard box, absolutely stuffed with packaged foods. Inspecting one, I am surprised to find that over a blank preservation package, was a hand-made label featuring a marker drawing of our very own Gibson. 

“Natrient snack bars by Mr Hal Gibson” I read aloud, smiling. Why did he misspell ‘Nutrient’? I know he occasionally combines words as a form of shorthand, but I can’t think of a single word that it could be. Besides ‘Natural’, but because Gibson seems to have made this, I know that there is a _very_ slim chance that this is natural in the slightest.

I put the snacks back, and peer deeper into the vent. While it _did_ provide a significant amount of air flow between rooms, it was large enough to comfortably crawl through. Otto often used them to reach out of the way internal circuits without taking apart the walls. Nova once scared Gibson into dropping several test samples by jumping out of a vent. There was an alternative route to nearly anywhere in the robot if you went through the vents. Including the circuit room.

No, no. I should stay here. 

Of course, it wouldn’t cause any harm just to see where this vent leads. I’m technically not on a mission to reach the secondary controls. I crawl forward, and soon there’s a bend in the path. Upwards. I could tell there was another bend back the way I came, and I realize this leads into the command center. I also realize this is _the worst_ position to be in when it comes to back pain. 

I stand up and hoist myself onto the higher vent, crawling until I can see out into the command center. The formless was lingering by the door to the med bay, almost directly underneath me. Very close to me is a suspended vent that’s clearly too small for me to fit inside, but was strong enough for me to climb on top of. At the other end of the command center is another vent I could crawl into, and likely leads to the circuit room. If I dislodge the vent covering, I could probably use it as enough of a distraction that the formless wouldn’t notice me even if it _can_ hear or see.

At this point it clearly isn’t me just being curious. I’m making a goal for myself because I love my job and miss doing it. No matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I am _definitely_ breaking a few rules.

Yet I continue. With a bit of pressure, the covering comes off, and I throw it into the debris of the control panel. It makes a loud _clang_. The formless immediately goes to investigate, and that is when I move.

I am able to stand on the suspended vent, rather than crawl, sacrificing balance for comfort is a net win for me. The formless- doesn't seem to notice as I walk across the vent. I unscrew and remove the cover, and toss it back near the med bay door. I climb inside while the formless checks it out. My goal should be about 20 feet ahead of me at this point, and the hardest part will likely be a jump down. I start heading that way, but soon my back pain is too much to bear and I sit down under an upwards opening to rest.

My back still hurts, and my stomach tightens as well. Likely another false contraction. Not incredibly painful, but it’s good to rest until it stops. 

I hear a _splat_. The formless is entering the air duct with me. In a blind panic, I kick the grate above me out of the way and jump out into the living quarters hallway. 

Need a weapon, preferably a ranged weapon. Even just a long stick would be better than trying to fight with just my claws. Far too close. Nova has an entire collection of weapons. Range isn’t her forte but she has to have at least one she’s tried out. 

She'll understand me borrowing something while she’s not here. Opening her door, I inspect the weapons half of her room. Mostly swords, maces, close-range weapons. One I instantly recognize as a small flamethrower. 

The formless has made its way out of the vent, but I'm ready for it. The second I think it’s in range I fire. It recoils and thrashes, but the fire goes out quickly, leaving white, flaky patches over the goop. I fire at it again. The formless seems to be slowing down, getting smaller.

Soon it’s nothing more than a pile of ash and a scorch on the floor.

My plan was to simply use it to scare the formless away, but it worked much better than expected. No defense system needed.

I believe I handled that pretty well.

As I am returning the flame thrower to where it belongs, I’m suddenly gripped with the same tightness as before. The third time today. Maybe now I should check to see if I should be worrying about this.

I quickly sweep the formless ashes into the disposal, and head all the way back to the med bay, using the elevator this time.

Just need to connect the sensor to a tube in my arm and…

8.52

No, 8.54

Still rising. Okay. It’s nearly at the level that says I’m in labor, and reaching that level fast. 

Once again, I call the team.

“Antauri to Monkey Team.”

“Hey Antauri!” Sparx responds, “How are you and your new goopy friend?”

“I took care of it. There's a more pressing issue at the moment. I’m in labor.”

Over the comms, there is a cacophony of surprised monkey noises.

“Have you tested your hormone levels?” Gibson asks.

“8.6 and rising.”

“How far apart are your contractions?”

“30 minutes to 45 minutes apart, not sure the exact number. They last about 30 seconds.”

I hear Gibson sigh with relief. “Okay, still in early stages, but definitely past the point of no reversal. We’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“This mission was almost a complete failure, so we were already heading back when you called,” Nova says. Surprisingly, Mandarin doesn’t retort.

“Antauri, go lay down and have something to drink. Stay off your feet as much as possible. The less pressure on your cervix the better,” Gibson says.

“Grab a towel to sit on, too!” Otto’s hand bumps against his communicator, cutting his voice out for a second, ”Your water probably won’t break until much later, but there’s still a lot going on down there.” 

“Thank you,”

“Antauri?”

“Yes, Mandarin?”

“I love you. A lot.”

I have no idea why he felt the need to say that out of nowhere, but it still makes me smile.

“I love you too, dear.”

“See you in an hour.”

“Of course,”

I turn off my communicator and follow Gibson and Otto’s advice. After all I’ve done in the past hour, I actually _want_ to relax. I lay on my left side, with a hand on my belly. 

The reality of what is soon to happen finally hits me. I’m going to really meet my children soon. Not sure when. But soon. Probably tomorrow. On principle, I’m excited about that, but this is over a month before my due date. The twins will need a lot of support just to survive their first few months of life… but we’ve prepared for that. 

I focus on the twins and their positions, which haven’t changed in days. It’s likely they’ll stay that way a while longer… Meaning they might finally have names. We read their futures based on who would be older.

The lower twin, also the larger twin, is probably going to be born first. During a reading, we read her as a girl. Someone strong-willed and creative. Just from reading her present soul, I can’t tell if that’s true, but she’s very active, so far. Mandarin wants to name her Roxanne. It means ‘morning star’.

The other twin is one that we read at needing extra help, more reserved than their sister. We never got a reading on gender, it kept nearly the entire reading gender-neutral. They’ll probably be a lot like me, in that regard. Not quite one or another. I always knew I’d meet someone else like that, I just had no idea I’d have to make them myself. I want to name them Hespera, meaning ‘evening star’, though the name is old and uncommon enough for them to make it mean whatever they want.

Perfect complements to each other. I hope they get along… although the second I thought that, Roxanne kicked Hespera in the face.

I can’t wait to hold them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALMOST THERE, FOLKS!!!!  
> There is a lot to put in this note.  
> 1\. This might be my longest chapter  
> 2\. I have fanart now! Hi, people who read this but don't comment!!! Glad you like my work!  
> 3\. The twins have names. Roxy and Hespera. Antauri only calls her Roxanne when she's in trouble.  
> 4\. I love you guys!  
> 5\. I'm PUMPED to write the next chapter.  
> 


	15. Birth (x2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Birth. Two babies are born in this chapter. It's not very descriptive or graphic, but I thought I should give a warning anyway. Also, blood! That's part of birth.  
> Also some heart to heart talking but that's not graphic.

It isn't long before I wake to the creaking of the robot, marking the arrival of Fist Rocket 3, and the team. Usually, Mandarin has some reports and logging to do before doing anything else in the robot, but he’s at my door within seconds. He looks stressed.

"Antauri."

"Did I worry you, or did the mission go that badly?"

"A combination of both. How are you feeling?"

"Relieved to see you, and not currently in any pain."

Mandarin smiles, visibly relaxing. He leaves my door open, and sits on my bed next to me. "I couldn't stop thinking about you today."

"How  _ was _ today?"

"You heard Nova, a complete waste of time. Absolute failure. Not even worth logging"

Otto and Gibson run past my room, dragging Nova and Sparx with them. Nova makes an effort to wave at me before Otto yanks her out of my view.

“Not even a new flora or fauna that you had to drag Gibson away from?”

“I used my sword on a common house spider that freaked him out”

I laugh, though I’m not satisfied with his answer. He’d been only going out for patrols for the past month, and was looking forward to this mission. He’d usually find  _ something _ of note.

“How did the formless encounter go?” Mandarin asks, “You said you took care of it?”

“I did. Have you catalogued their weakness to fire, yet?”

“What?”

“I borrowed one of Nova’s flamethrowers and reduced the slimy pest to ash within seconds.”

Mandarin’s face goes through an entire journey without him as I see him attempt to piece together what happened. 

“Wh- how did you- But it-”

“Formless are not observant in the slightest.”

“I’m not sure whether I’m overestimating formless abilities or underestimating yours.”

“Perhaps both. I may have had a more interesting time than you did.”

"Maybe so," He rolls his eyes.

There is an audible crash from the hallway and vague notions of “its fine-” from Gibson.

“What on Shuggazoom are they doing?” I ask.

"Otto's probably doing a triple final check on the specialized machines he built and Gibson is doing a last minute review with his brand new nurse."

"Nova?"

"Sparx, actually," Gibson says from the doorway. He has a digital clipboard in his hands. "Oh good, you're already sticking to the plan, Mandarin. I haven't even gone over it yet."

"Ah yes, have you organized your thoughts yet? You were completely incomprehensible before we got back to the robot." 

"You did hear 'keep Antauri comfortable' which is about half of the instruction I have for you." He has a bulleted list of what appears to be a plan, if one that has a lot to be added. "I'd like to go over what we have so far, and have you make a few decisions, Antauri."

I nod, not quite sure what to say.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you would prefer a non-surgical birth, I assume."

"You'd assume correctly, but how were you able to tell? I haven't brought it up once, since you said it wouldn't be feasible."

"At no point in your pregnancy have you seemed willing to lay down and let other monkeys help you. Actually, at no point in me knowing you have you seemed ready to let anyone take over for any job you think you can do yourself."

Had my fur been lighter, Gibson would've been able to see me blush in embarrassment. I look away.

"It's all right, Antauri. Out of the three of us in this room you're the one to manage control-freak tendencies the best."

"Excuse me?" Mandarin says.

"Moving on!" Gibson says before Mandarin asks him to elaborate. "Explaining the possibility of a vaginal birth now."

"That's right, you said it wouldn't be possible,"

"Had you been full term, it wouldn't be, but where you are at now is more closely in line with our species' natural counterparts. The twins may not be developmentally complete, but their heads are about the right size."

"Regarding health, is this the better option? I don't want my own fears to hurt them.”

“There isn't much of a difference for  _ the twins _ , besides a slight decrease in risk for respiratory problems. For you, however, it's a much better option, as the opening left from an operation would take months to recover from. As long as you and the twins' vitals are stable, there isn't a need for an operation."

"I'm really glad to hear tha-" before I can finish, my belly tightens painfully. “Ah. Ow.”

"Let's time that, shall we?" Gibson says. 

It’s a silent few seconds, before I visibly relax and nod, signalling it’s over.

“Around 25 seconds, just based on that, you have a while to go. Though, at any point, I can set you up with an epidural for pain relief, you’d just need to ask.”

“I’m alright for now.”

“Wonderful!” Gibson looks back down at his clipboard for a moment, "For now, we don't really need to do much until either your water breaks or your contractions get much closer together. About five minutes apart, is the standard. Currently Otto and the others are going over the life support to make sure nothing goes wrong-"

Sparx shouts from the hallway, "and if anything  _ does _ go wrong, there's at least three monkeys who know how to fix it!"

"That's right, thank you Sparx." Gibson says. Sparx gives a little salute wave before going back to help Nova and Otto. “Mandarin, you’re in charge of Antauri. Well, he’s in charge of you.”

I laugh a little.

“Just keep him comfortable, keep track of contractions, come get me if necessary. Antauri, keep Mandarin out of the med bay unless you need him to get one of us, because I can already tell that he’s going to be unbearably anxious.”

“Of course,” I say. Mandarin looks offended, but does not object. 

“I better go help the others set things up. Again, I’m one call away.” Gibson says, and leaves us alone.

The next few hours are surprisingly uneventful. I read my book, chat with Mandarin, eat dinner in bed, and even fall asleep. Not very well, but any rest at all is important. 

I wake up in the middle of the night, or perhaps the early hours of the morning, by a contraction. I breath measured breaths until it's over, and feel unbelievably restless. Still tired, I get out of bed. Usually, at this time of the night, I’d forgo walking and float. But now, I feel the  _ need _ to walk, despite how difficult it is for me.

In the hallway, it’s silent. Mostly. There is always the humming of machines, an ambience that we’ve all grown to love. I walk towards the kitchen, taking care with each step. It hurts my feet but makes my legs feel better. Everything else soon becomes less tense.

I find Mandarin at the kitchen table, with a cup of tea, staring off into nothing. He doesn’t notice my presence when I enter the room. 

"Mandarin?" I say, quietly. He doesn't even blink. "Mandarin." I say, louder this time. He snaps back to reality, and shakes his head.

"Ah, Antauri. Hello."

"Mandarin, are you alright? How long have you been sitting here?"

"Uh…" he looks down at his tea, then at the clock. "Ten, twenty minutes."

I sit down next to him, and hold his hand, smoothing out his fur. "Talk to me."

He's silent for a few seconds, looking around. 

"Antauri, I've never been so scared in my entire life."

I don’t respond, only squeeze his hand.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to show these feelings to you, even though you’d pick up on them anyways...”

“I’d rather you talk to me about these things,”

“I know, I… I know. I..” He trails off, tears welling up in his eyes. He hugs me, clutching onto me like I’ll disappear if he lets go. “I’m scared about so many things… The future, the past… right now!”

I pat him on the back lightly, “Let’s go through them one at a time. You can’t just sit here spiralling forever.” 

He doesn’t answer.

“Come on, Mandy. One thing.”

He finally sits up, “I.. I’m scared something will happen.. To you.. Or the twins. Or just one of them… during birth..It.. It’s not rational, but I can’t help but worry.”

“It  _ is _ rational, but that’s why we prepared for it to happen. I trust that the team has every possible disaster scenario covered.”

“That’s true…”

“I’ll share a fear that sounds irrational, too. I don’t know if I’ll make a good parent.”

I expect Mandarin to give me an incredulous look, or even laugh. Instead, he squeaks out a tiny, “Me too,”

“Oh honey,” More hugs, “I think we can figure it out together,”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. It’s not as concrete of a plan as we would like, but we love our kids. We can’t get it too wrong if we love them.”

Finally a smile from Mandarin. “I.. I’m sorry I dumped all this on you right… now.” He says, looking down at my belly. I can barely lean forward enough to hug him. 

“I’d rather have this happen now, than have you crying with the babies.”

“Yeah, that is… a lot easier to deal with.” He wipes a tear away from his eyeshield, “Today’s mission just messed me up.”

“You said nothing happened, though.”

“I did  _ say _ that.”

“Mandarin? What happened? What did you see?”

“Something I wasn’t supposed to. None of us are supposed to know about h- it, but I know. I can't stop thinking about it. I can’t handle thinking about it  _ and  _ them.” He gently rubs my side.

“You don’t need to tell me.” But stars do I want to know. “If it’s important enough, it’ll reveal itself when the time is right.”

“I’m glad you believe me, even without knowing what it is.”

“We live in a universe where what is thought to be impossible happens. Seeing something unbelievable is something I’m surprised hasn’t happened Sooner.”

He doesn’t respond, but it’s more comfortable than the previous silences. He looks a lot calmer. We enjoy the quiet sounds of the robot, and each other’s breathing.

Until I sharply inhale. I’m suddenly gripped by a much more painful contraction than the ones at the beginning of the night. I can’t help but grimace, and Mandarin immediately looks almost as worried as he was when this conversation started.

“I’m fine.” Breath in, breath out, “just… help me back to bed?” I say. Mandarin nods, and helps me stand up with him. We make it about three steps before there’s an audible trickling and a growing puddle at my feet. 

I have to stop to comprehend that my water just broke.

“I’ll get Gibson.” Mandarin says, but he makes sure that I can stand before he leaves. I grip the table, still standing, focusing on my breathing. After what seems like an eternity, Mandarin returns, a slightly groggy Gibson following. The overhead light comes on and Gibson seems to inspect the puddle of amniotic fluid I’m standing in.

“No meconium in your waters, that’s good. Antauri, do you mind if I-” he begins, reaching towards me.

“Do  _ not _ touch me.” I say. Gibson flinches back.

“Alright. When you are ready, I will have to check the babys’ positions.” He takes a few steps back.

It’s a few more seconds of staring at my hands on the table before the contraction ends. I sigh, and stand up straight. I nod at Gibson, and he presses on my belly in several places. He steps back looking pleased.

"The first twin is almost in the perfect position, and the second is likely to follow!"

I smile at the news. Everything is going well.

"Antauri, can you walk?" Gibson asks. I shift my weight on my legs a few times, just to test.

"Slowly."

"Alright. Mandarin, help Antauri to the med bay, at his place. I'm going to wake up the others, and get the diagnostic tools up and running. Staying upright will help move things along, if you feel the need."

Gibson runs back to the rooms, and I start on my way to the elevators. It’s… a slow process. At the elevator tubes I have to stop to allow another contraction to pass, while Mandarin rubs my back.

Gibson and the others pass us on their way to the med bay, Otto pausing to wave. I give him a strained smile, and wave back. He gives me a thumbs up and leaves to go up the elevator. A whole conversation without a single word. 

Mandarin holds me close in the elevator. It’s not advised to share a tube while in use, but my legs feel unstable enough to ignore that. I press my face into his chest.

Finally in the med bay, I sit on the side of the bed prepared for me. 

Gibson grabs and uncaps a syringe, and opens the metal access panel in my back, “Alright Antauri, let’s get these contractions a bit more tolerable,” 

I can’t feel much of what he does in the panel in my back, but very soon afterwards, the ache in my legs and tail fade into nothing. 

"Now, you'll still feel contractions, but it'll be less painful, a lot easier for you to focus on everything that's happening." Gibson turns to Otto, behind one of the machines, "Are all the sensors ready?"

Otto nods, and sticks two receivers onto my stomach. The monitor next to him lights up with the twins' vitals. He plugs something similar into my wrist, and the monitor displays my vitals as well as my children's.

"Everything looks good! This is wonderful!"

"Hey doc, don't forget to warm up your hands before checking his dilation," Sparx says. Gibson rolls his eyes.

"My hands are  _ not _ that cold." He says, only for Otto to give him a face in between a grimace and a glare. Nova is trying and failing to stifle a laugh. Gibson starts washing hair hands in warm water. Considering that his hands are made of metal and he's measuring the dilation of my  _ cervix _ I'd rather his hands be warm. I lay down and let him check. Despite both the epidural injection and him warming up his hands, it's still very unpleasant. 

"Nearly there. You might even be able to push on your next contraction. Do not do so unless you feel ready, though." Gibson washes his hands again.

"Understood." I say. As soon as I sit up and get comfortable, another contraction begins. I grab Mandarin's hand.

"How is your pain level?"

"Previous contraction was an eight. This one is a three."

"Perfect!" Gibson smiles. The rest of the team, sitting on the currently unused exam table, just look happy to be here. I'm glad they're here. I've never been more vulnerable. 

About ten minutes later I start pushing. This is happening. This is  _ happening _ . Mandarin is at my side, holding my hand, helping me change positions if needed. 

I'm not sure how long I've been pushing, but Gibson motions for the others to get life support up and running. Mandarin and I share a smile.

Either the pain meds are wearing off or labor is getting more difficult. Progress is slowing down, but that’s how it goes. That’s how it goes. 

I hear Sparx shout “One big push, come on!”

The resulting splash of liquid immediately followed by the very distinct feeling of a tiny body and a long tail sliding out of me is by far the most bizarre thing I’ve ever felt. I’m gasping from both the relief and the effort. Before I can even sit up to look, she’s already shrieking as loud as her tiny lungs would let her. Mandarin supports me, letting me get a good look at her as Gibson hands her to Sparx and Otto. They connect her to her life support machine through the still umbilical cord. 

Roxanne, out in the world. 

As soon as the connections are stable, Otto rolls her over to me. She’s still wet from the womb and a bit of my blood, but I can tell she’s got the finest, thinnest layer of fur all over. I grab her hand with two of my fingers, my thumb just perfect to fit in the palm of her hand. She looks around, revealing eyes just like Mandarin’s, big and dark and so,  _ so  _ sweet. Mandarin reaches over, and brushes a drop of amniotic fluid out of her face.

“Roxanne.” He says. I had nearly forgotten to tell the rest of the team our decision on names. I grunt as another contraction starts, forcing me to let go. 

“Don’t worry, Antauri, we’ll get her cleaned up while you work on getting the other one out.” Sparx says with a smile. I nod at him, and he goes to help Otto.

Mandarin lays me back down and kisses my hand. Almost there. 

Gibson checks a few things- my vitals, baby’s vitals, their position,- and I’m given the go ahead to push.

Not long after, the pain suddenly increases tenfold, and I cry out. I hear various noises of concern from both Mandarin and Gibson, but I lose the ability to focus hard enough to discern what they’re saying. I have no idea what’s happening until I hear a  _ crunch _ , and then the tiniest “ow,” from Mandarin.

My eyes shoot open and I let go, him slowly moving his hand away. The contraction fades away for a few seconds, and I can see Mandarin’s hand is  _ very _ broken.

“I- I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine” He squeaks, smiling a pained smile, “It’s only fair I hurt during this too,”

“I broke your hand,”

“Yeah” He’s barely audible. Gibson, seemingly out of nowhere, jabs mandarin’s wrist with a syringe, then wraps his hand in gauze

“That’ll require surgery to properly re-align.” Gibson doesn’t look up from his work. “It should be numb soon, I’ll fix it after both twins are stable.”

“Thanks Gibson.” Mandarin says.

“I’m sorry- I.. it suddenly hurt a lot more tha-” I can’t even finish my explanation before I’m hit with  _ another _ painful contraction. I push along with it, gritting my teeth as the pain increases again. 

When I come back to focus, Gibson is in the middle of some sort of explanation. The only thing I’m able to pick out from it is “already crowning” and “push”. Mandarin grabs my hand again, and I’m hesitant to hold it back until I realize he's wearing one of his gauntlets.

I push with all I have, and Hespera is born. My heart starts to sink when I see them, limp.

Gibson holds them facedown, patting their back.

One second, not breathing.

Two seconds, not breathing.

Three seconds, still not breathing.

Four seconds, they cough, then start to cry. We all let out a sigh of relief. Gibson cuts the cord and starts connecting them to life support, hopeful that they wouldn’t scare us like that again. 

I’m anxiously waiting for the moment I can touch Hespera’s hand, and really see them, when Nova says, “That’s a  _ lot _ of blood,”

“What?” Gibson pauses working on Hespera to look, “oh shit! Sparx, finish this!”

There’s shouting, the sound of my vital monitor freaking out, one or both of the twins crying.

I’m not totally sure what’s going on after this, until I wake up an unknown amount of time later. 

It’s quiet. I open my eyes, and attempt to sit up, only to be met with pain for trying. I sit up using my arms, this time. Gibson is working on Mandarin’s hand in the sterile field nearby. Otto is facedown on the table near the twins, asleep. I can faintly hear Sparx and Nova talking somewhere in the command center.

“You’re awake!” Mandarin nearly moves his hand, causing Gibson to silently scold him.

“How long was I unconscious?”

“Only for half an hour or so.” Gibson says, “I’m surprised you didn’t sleep longer.” 

“What happened?” In that moment, I notice the bandages on my abdomen. 

“What you experienced is called a placental abruption, where the placenta separates from the uterine wall in a way that causes excessive bleeding and pain” Gibson places a pin into Mandarin’s hand, “We’re very lucky that it happened at a time where it didn’t affect the twins, but you needed a blood transfusion and a partial hysterectomy. I had to remove part of your uterus. It was impossible to control the bleeding otherwise.”

So I most likely won’t have the ability to carry any more children. Which to be clear, is not a bad thing. Two is already a lot.

“It’ll be a few months before you fully heal, but that goes for Mandarin’s hand as well. Several fractures and two full breaks,”

“It’s impressive!” Mandarin says with a smile. “No hard feelings, obviously. I can’t even imagine the pain you must have been in.”

“Everything after Hespera started to cry is a haze.”

“That’s right! You haven’t seen the babies all clean yet!” Mandarin raises his non-injured hand, and moves both of the twins to my bedside with the power primate. “Roxanne has a pink wristband, Hespera has the purple.”

Now clean and dry, the downy fuzz on them both is obvious, already a very dark brown. Roxanne is fast asleep, but Hespera is looking around, an angry look on their face. Just like their father. What isn’t like Mandarin is their eyes. They were still dark, but had a slight green tint to them, like mine. Those eyes finally meet mine, and I almost start crying. 

This is a monkey! I made them!

I hold Hespera’s hand and count their fingers and toes, a perfect 16 digits, as they should. Four little fingers on each hand. 

“Hi sweetie,” I whisper. It breaks my heart that they have to be connected to life support, with so many tubes going into them, but they’re alive. 

They’re alive and beautiful. 

And so incredibly small. 

Two perfect little baby monkeys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left out a lot of little details I would've put in if this was a fic about humans, both because there aren't a lot of resources about that and because that's just... weird.  
> This chapter took a long time because I could barely write it, switching rapidly between "this is so weird why am i writing this the fandom will hate me" and "AAAAAAA BABY". only today has my head been empty enough for me to get any work done.  
> But Roxy and Hespera are here!!!! A sweet little girl and a wonderful something else. I've been doodling their Chiro-aged designs all day.
> 
> We still have a few more chapters to go, folks. As a warning, once everyone is settled, we'll start heading towards.... canon events.
> 
> A late happy halloween, everybody!


End file.
